


The Good Word Of Rock

by spaloon



Category: Trolls (2016), Trolls World Tour, Trolls: The Beat Goes On (Cartoon)
Genre: Barb Wins AU, F/F, Poppy Says Fuck, Second Person, Slow Burn, Yes Its A Songfic Sometimes, hip riley fic (tm), its a comedy i promise........., the beat goes on is Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaloon/pseuds/spaloon
Summary: "Everythings great, isn't it? It's exactly like you dreamed. Ain't that right, Popstar?""Rock is the endgame of all sentient life! Bad words are fuckin' cool!" Poppy shouts, throwing up her horns.Well, she's not wrong on either point, though the statement of plainly evident facts doesn't stop a tear from welling in your eye. Dear old dad never did quite get the chance to thank you for your hard work bringing about his dream, but you know. You didn't do it for the praise, though that would have been nice. You did it for him. And for all of them.---Set after an ending where the Rock Unification Tour succeeds, Barb is left feeling unsatisfied with the results and decides to set Poppy and the rest of the world free- and, hopefully, be forgiven in the aftermath.
Relationships: Queen Barb/Queen Poppy (Trolls)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89





	1. Broken Plates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Prologue.

Fingers split and pink blood forms droplets when the power cord cuts through the sky, a bolt of energy that leaves a vacancy in the air as it arcs towards its target, the Queen of Pop, helpless in her cage. You feel a twinge of guilt. She's the antithesis of rock- and in a moment of vulnerability you opened up to her, even if ever so slightly. But the taste of victory squashes that feeling as a grin spreads across your face, watching her fall. 

Poppy lands with a thud- and when the smoke clears, you can see the fruit of your labor clearly. There she stands with her blood red eyes, horns raised, clad in leather and denim and spikes. It's a good look for her. A _better_ look.

 _"WHO'S READY TO PARTY?"_ She shouts to the crowd, sticking out her tongue, _"Without smiling."_

"Alright, now this is what I'm talking about! Although..." You chuckle, your grin turning sinister. Sauntering closer, you idly strum the guitar. "I dunno if that one really did the trick, you know? Not with those gumdrops in your ears. Right, Push-Pop?"

It’s like you can see the moment her heart stops when Poppy freezes in place, the red light instantly fading from her eyes. She steps backwards but doesn't get far before you point the guitar at her again.

"Guess I'll just have to give you a double dose!"

"Barb _wait,_ you don-"

You shred on the strings, and once again white hot light shoots forth and slams into the pop troll, cutting her off. She stumbles, falls to the floor, and if she makes any noise you can't hear it over the sound of your awesomely terrible riff.

"Dickory and Shitkory told me about their little trick, by the way," you say, "And it got me thinking. You're a smart troll, right? Smart-ish, atleast." You walk closer, still holding the chord, as the beam envelopes her. She probably can't even hear you, but who cares? You deserve to gloat. "Thought you might try that one out for yourself. Can't be too careful when you're rockin' the world, right?"

With one flourish of the hand you finish the chord, holding your pick up high. The crowd is silent, the light finally fades, and out of the proselyte's ears drop two scorched gumdrops. You laugh in triumph, tossing the red-eyed rock zombie your guitar.

"Why don't you do the honors, ey, Poppy? Show these losers how to _rock!"_

She's silent when she raises it up, up to the crowded stadium of trolls, terror in their beady eyes. You can't help but smile as, one by one, the last traces of music are snuffed out, until only Rock remains. 

Well, other than one genre...

You place a hand on the guitar, the end smouldering, and gently guide it over to the yodelers. A look of shock comes over them, but you only chuckle.

"Oh, I'm _really_ sorry guys. I wanted to give you your own little island, but it seems like _Hickory_ here had a change of heart. How very noble of him. Unfortunately."

You watch as Poppy converts him with the flick of her wrist. Dickory looks horrified, covering his eyes from the beam of light. 

"Barb, what's the meaning of this?" He stammers pathetically, "W-we, we had a deal!" 

Ignoring him, you continue, pacing to Poppy's other side and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Seems his brother wasn't so sympathetic, and ratted him out. Thanks for that, by the way, _really_ appreciate it. But what kinda music genre only has one member, am I right? Would be downright cruel to just send you out there alone..."

Another cord, another zombie.

You sigh, satisfied for the moment, and give your new friend a pat on the back. "Hey, be a doll and finish up here, alright? I've got a party to plan."

Poppy mindlessly nods. You snap your fingers and head backstage, while she fires cord after cord into the captive crowd. 

Ah, the sweet taste of victory.

It's... a bit more bitter than you would've thought.

Shaking your head, you squash that feeling down again, imagining how happy your dad's going to be. You've got to find him right away.

Luckily, the old coot isn't that hard to find. It's not like he gets around much these days! 

… That thought was in poor taste, you think. The dude's in a wheelchair.

"There he is, King Thrash the terrible!" You laugh and shoot finger guns at your father, who wearily blinks open his eyes. "We did it dad! in a matter of minutes we'll all be one nation under _Rock!"_ You throw up the horns and strike a pose, but it's as if he barely registers it. 

"Mmm... That's nice, sweetie..."

You were expecting some more excitement, if you're being honest. Face falling, you step toward him, waving a hand in front of his face. "Uh, _hello?_ Dad? I got the strings and crushed all that boring fake music! You know, your Big Dream you used to talk about literally _all_ the time?"

His eyes seem so distant, staring past you and at what you assume is only the blank stone wall. 

"Have you seen my juice?" He mumbles. "I need my fiber, my guts aren't what they used to be..."

"Your... Your juice?" You're frowning now, putting a hand to his wrinkled face, but it doesn't make things any better. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. "Dad I thought we could celebrate or something. We did it! Right? The… The big plan. I embroidered those jackets and everything..."

Raising one of his hands up, you force his fingers into return horns. He smiles, and you chuckle weakly. "Haha yeah, alright! That's what I wanted, dad."

"You're welcome, sweetie... Where are we again?"

"We're _home_ , Dad…" You give him an exasperated sigh. Well, you'll just have to wait for one of his lucid moments for the pat on the back, you suppose. "Come on, let me get you to bed. We've got a big day tomorrow."

Grabbing the wheelchair by its handles, you begin to wheel him back to his room, but not before you spot your intern chilling in the back. Your ears perk up, and you glance back at your father. "Hold on a sec dad, I'll be back real quick."

You leave him and whatever old man thing he's saying to go touch base with your drummer.

"Hey hey _Riffster_ , what's up?" You clap him on the back hard, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. "Dude, you killed it on the drums out there."

"Oh, uh, hey your Rockness," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You laugh and shake your head. "Dude, just call me Barb. So like, we did it huh? Rock Nation forever!" You pump your fist into the air, expecting Riff to return it, but he doesn't.

"Haha, yeah…" His laugh is a lot more nervous than yours as he shuffles his feet uncomfortably. "You, uh, didn't really _mention_ the zombie part, though."

Arms falling back to your sides, you just shrug. "Eh, guess I didn't think it mattered that much. All that matters is music isn't gonna keep us apart anymore, yeah?"

He rubs his arm.

"Yeah... I guess so."

Glad he sees it your way. You can always trust good ol' Riff, and you'll definitely make sure he gets every college credit he deserves.

"So, I'm gonna be throwing one hell of an after party," you say, leaning against a nearby column nonchalantly. "All of trolldom is gonna be there, and it's gonna be _totally_ sick. Can I count on you to beat those drums like they owe you money?"

Riff looks away from you. At least, you think he does, anyway, since you can't ever see his eyes.

"I dunno, I’m kinda worn out. I think I might just hit the sack."

Honestly, you're a bit disappointed. But you get it. You're only conscious on pure adrenaline right now yourself. So you let him go, scratching the buzz of your mohawk. "Oh, uh, sure man. You get some Z’s. I'll catch you at the next one."

You hold up your hand for a high five. He returns it, but you gotta admit, it didn't feel as… _enthusiastic_ as usual. Well. You're probably just imagining things, and you reckon you've dicked around long enough. 

Time to get daddy dearest to sleep, and then throw one _hell_ of a rager.

* * *

A few weeks have passed since the ‘Music Is Over’ party, but you're still riding high on your conquest. Even so, you know that it's too soon to rest on your laurels. Even at the precipice of total victory, history has shown that it can still blow up in your face. You doubt you managed to convert _every_ troll. They can be sneaky little buggers, and when they go to ground, they can be nigh impossible to find. Not until they make their move. But you're not some stupid pop freak. No, you're not going to let them get the jump on you.

You park your critterbike at the edge of Pop Village, helping your passenger off. 

"Alright, Roppy... Er, Rock Poppy." You make a mental note that that nickname is a stinker. "Your little pals are still out there. Root ‘em out for me, will ya?"

Poppy enthusiastically nods her head, giving you a goofy grin. "With _pleasure_ , your Sacriligiousness."

Quickly, she gets down on all fours and skitters off like a roach towards the village proper, ear to the ground. You smirk as you watch her go. Once you've got these suckers under lock and key and ready for their hardcore makeover, you’ll finally be able to take it easy. The other genres might not be as conniving as those that fly the banner of Rock, but you'd bet a month's pay that desperation might drive them to actually consider self preservation. 

Speaking of preservation, you spend a moment to take quick stock of the ruined village out ahead of you. You still can't decide whether or not to leave these places as a monument to your devastating world tour, or to just send the boys in to bulldoze this place and turn it into a shitty small town mall. One where the next generation can play their garage rock to a crowd of uninterested interlopers that just wanted to get a cheap, incredibly shody piercing at Troll Claire’s. The final dream of a perfect society. It honestly brings a tear to your eye just thinking about it.

In short order, the chief among your zombie minions returns with a smattering of trolls, most of them with wrists bound. All save for one, a lean purple fellow with teal hair. 

"What's up with him?" You ask, jerking your head at him. Poppy opens her mouth to speak, but the purple troll interrupts her, stepping forward with a bow.

"Creek’s the name, and, can I just say? Your vibe is absolutely _sublime,_ ” he says, holding out a hand. You don’t take it, only raising an eyebrow, so he quickly continues. “Love what you did to this one, a _huge_ improvement. So, Queen Poppy- or, should I say, the _former_ Queen Poppy, explained to me that she was back in town to zombify the last survivors. Nasty bit of work that is, so I offered a bit of a trade. Let me go, and I'd root out the others myself. I take it you’re satisfied with our little transaction?”

You smirk.

"Oh, nice, dude, we coulda been here all day!” His smarmy smile only gets wider as you move towards him. “Hey, I really appreciate you helping me out, lotta folks don’t seem to understand how busy a Queen’s schedule can be." 

“Of course not,” he laughs, shaking his head. “The plight of a royal is a thankless one, innit?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” You say, giving him a clap on the shoulder. "Hey, Popsqueak? Tie him up and leave him out by a growlbeast den, yeah?" 

Poppy nods in affirmative and grabs Creek by the arms, his grin falling instantly. 

"Wait, what? But I-"

You quickly interrupt his pleas with a huff. "Yeah yeah, good work there, dude. But I’m gonna be honest with you; no one likes a narc."

A serene smile on your face, you boop him on the nose, then watch Poppy drag him away kicking and screaming. 

"Have fun, Creek!" Cackling, you wave as he disappears into the foliage. "Catch you on the flipside, we should definitely hang!" 

Even the other captive trolls laugh a bit. Man, that guy must've been one _hell_ of a pariah. 

"Oh, oh boy, that was really good. Alright, okay," You wipe away a tear, before pulling out a walkie talkie. "Alright, bring in the bus, I've got a few more for the party."

There's a screeching clatter of feedback on the thing before you get a response, a frantic Riff on the other end. 

"Uh, Queen Barb? We need you back at Volcano Rock, ASAP."

"What?" Smile vanishing, you raise an eyebrow. "Uh… Give me a sec, okay?" You put a hand over the receiver and look over to your prisoners. They shuffle around awkwardly. "Uh, just hold tight a second, I gotta take this."

You step away while Poppy keeps watch. She's like a wild animal, so you doubt that anyone is getting anywhere far even if they did try to run. 

"What's up, did something happen?" You ask nervously, fidgeting with your torn tank top. You're in admittedly uncharted territory with this whole new world order thing, so who knows what could have gone wrong? 

"W-well, um,” he stammers, and you wish he’d just get it over with already. “It's your dad.”  
  
Your heart nearly stops.  
  
“He uh, uh... You... you better just get here quick."

Something happened to... To dad? Pulse racing, you drop the walkie talkie, which shatters like a pickle jar on the ground. As you sprint to your critterbike you shout back to the zombie still standing stark still with prisoners in tow. 

"Poppy, you got it from here, okay? I gotta go!"

You kick the bug's legs up, and Poppy salutes.

"I'll have them rocking by the break of dawn, your Rockness!" She calls, but you're barely even paying attention, speeding back home as fast as you can.

* * *

Time had moved by at a crawl ever since you finished the great work of full world zombification. What once had you riding high now just leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

But you decide to swallow that feeling for now. It's what dad wanted, and, at the very least, you got to give it to him at the end. Even if he didn't realize it. 

The funeral is an... Intimate occasion. Not for lack of effort- nearly every troll who could hold a free thought was invited to see the once great king off, but very few people actually showed up. Funerals aren't really typical Rock style anyway. Living in a volcano doesn't help keep a healthy populace, and there are accidents on the regular, but even still. This is King Thrash, and the sheer lack of respect from his former kingdom makes your blood boil.

You have half a mind to break some shit, but a hand on the shoulder snaps you out of it.

"You alright, Barb?" Comes a voice from the side.

You brush his hand off.

"Oh, hey, Riff," you sigh, not looking at him. "Yeah. I mean no, dude's in a box, and I'm kind of having a mental breakdown about it. But nah, I'm good."

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, but doesn't say much else. Grief counseling isn't exactly a forté of Rock Trolls. Being sad about shit isn't punk rock, you guess. Whatever. You'll get over it. Just smash those feelings down Barb, smash 'em down and lock 'em up, like Dad told you. 

In the silence you hear the door creek open, interrupting your thoughts, and a muck covered Poppy struts in with shovel still in hand. Riff groans.

"The dead dad hole is ready, your Rockness. Commending ones body to the cold stone is pretty metal, I might add. Rock on." She respectfully bows her head. You give her a nod.

"So, Barb…" speaks up Riff, "Any chance you might, like, let those zombies like... Live?"

Looking up from your father's casket, you raise an eyebrow at him in confusion. "I mean, I've been having them party pretty much non-stop, and those glowing red devil eyes look absolutely sick in a crowd. I'd say they're living it up more than they ever did before."

Riff sighs and scratches his head, turning his head towards Poppy. His voice lowers. "But like. Is this really _cool?_ I mean, everyone talks the same, acts the same... Isn't this kinda… I dunno... Lame?"

Your eyebrows lower, mouth drawn into a tight line. This was absolutely not the time for him to be having doubts right now. Not when your dad's about to be put six feet under. "What're you trying to say?"

"I just think…" the hesitance in his voice is thick, and he gulps. "Maybe, forcing everyone to conform through a music curse isn't very… Rock and Roll?"

Whip fast, you grab him by the hem of his shirt and pull him in close, teeth bared. "You'd better watch your mouth, Riff. I am _not_ in the mood for this kinda bullshit."

He puts his hands on your shoulders to try to push himself away, but you barely budge. 

"I-I, just don't think this is right, is all!" With a snarl you let go of him, and he tumbles backwards onto his ass. 

"Well thanks for your input," you spit. "I'll make sure to tell all the others that actually, uniting the world fucking sucks; and maybe I'll go down to Hell and let my dad know that his dream was a crock of shit too, yeah?"

Grunting, Riff stands up. Even though there isn't much height difference between you two, he shrinks down, and looks so _small._

"I'm sorry, Barb, but I can't go along with this anymore. It sucks..."

"Oh, you think I give a shit?!" You laugh in his face. "You think I _need_ your ass? Get over yourself! I don't _need_ a whiny little shit cramping my style, In fact-" You turn to the ex-pop troll who had been standing in the corner, unflinching. "You wanna be my new intern?"

She throws up her horns and spits, as she is want to do. _"WOOO, I LOVE WORKING HARD FOR ZERO PAY?"_

Riff just shakes his head, turning away from you. "You used to be cool, Barb.."

You pick up a vase and chuck it at him. It misses him by a mile, of course, shattering against the far wall, but he gets the idea. Yelping like a wounded critter, he beats a hasty exit. 

It doesn't make you feel better. The blood boiling in your veins threatens to erupt now, and you can't stop yourself from throwing an absolute shit fit. Tables get flipped, benches get smashed, obscenity after obscenity is screamed, and the few trolls that actually attempted to pay their respects quickly get the hell out of dodge. 

It's only when you flip the coffin onto the floor that you snap back to your senses. Your pounding heart sinks as you hear the heavy thud. 

"Oh no, oh no, oh _Fuck_ , what did I _do?"_ You scramble to try to lift it, hot tears beading in your eyes, but it's too much for you alone. Looking over at the one troll still in the room, you urge her over, trying hard not to choke. "Poppy _please_ , I need your help!"

She strums an air guitar, and it nearly tips you over the edge.

"Oh, Hell yeah! I LOVE desecrating the dead!"


	2. Bad Reputation

You pace the dusty halls of your volcanic kingdom, as you often find yourself doing. Despite the party rockers being in the house tonight, you just don't feel up to a live appearance. 

_"WOOOOOO!"_

A red-eyed troll you don't recognize comes crashing through the window, one of the few that still remain at this point. He doesn't react beyond throwing up horns from where he lays, cut up and broken. "MY EMPLOYER OFFERS HEALTH INSURANCE! ROCK ON!!"

You just shake your head. Rock-zombification is a pre-existing condition, the poor sap. Despite the deplorable state of Rock Nation healthcare, the Right-Hand troll at your side lets out a nasty laugh.

"Ugh," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "Don't validate him like that, or he's never gonna learn."

The washed-out pink troll quickly swallows her laughter. "Yes, your Rockness."

You side eye her, to see her returning horns to the busted zombie. Your gaze lingers a bit, guilt welling in your gut. Why, of all trolls, did you pick _her_ to be your right hand? Well, that's obvious, because what is more befitting the Queen of Rock than feeling like absolute shit all the time? Poppy being a mindless yesman is the ultimate knife to twist in yourself. 

All for Daddy, right?

"Hey, Popsqueak?" There's a hesitance in your voice that feels unnatural to hear out loud.

The former queen snaps to attention, but not enough attention that you can get the impression that she respects you. Respecting authority is kind of in and out in terms of the rock zeitgeist. " _Yes_ , your Rockness?"

You swallow a lump in your throat. "... Do you ever miss how you were before?"

You don't know why you're even asking. It's clear there's just a bunch of sludge up between those ears.

Poppy mulls this over. "Well, an overwhelming nostalgia for how things used to be before everybody got so 'sensitive' is pretty rock..."

You slap your own face in frustration, but like way harder than you meant to for the gesture. It kinda stings. Classic Barb, always going too far. " _Nevermind._ "

As you and your plus one cross through an intersection of halls, you gesture to one of the trolls pretending to smoke off in the corner. "Hey, can you get someone out front? They got the last window."

"Metal," he says. He kind of half bows in a really sarcastic way, before scuttling off to find the handyman. Yeah, respect is definitely on the outs again.

You push open the great iron door to your throne. Honestly, you've been meaning to get these things replaced with something that isn't so fucking heavy. But it was something your Dad was way into, all this ostentatious, inconvenient _crap,_ so every time you get the hankering to have Mulletboy rip them off hinges, you lose heart. Passing by the throne, you head instead for a room in the back. Poppy seems momentarily disappointed. Even a zombified husk must get tired on her feet sometimes. But shit's about to get a _lot_ more heavy, no loads are getting taken off. You enter your private study. Poppy hesitates at the door, knowing fully well that this is a no trolls allowed zone. 

"You just want me to jam out here?" She asks, peeking her head just slightly past the threshold.

After a moment, you shake your head. "Nah, you might as well come in."

Your brain-rotten right hand almost cracks a smile as she obeys, a whole new world opening up before her eyes. A world full of piles and piles of loose garbage and crushed cans. You kick some out of the way as you make your way to the back. Stopping at the far end of the room, you look up at the portrait hung lopsided on the wall. 

"Hey, dad." You put your hand on a heavy black box in front of you, trying to fix a smile on your face best as you can for the static likeness of your father. "Everythings great, isn't it? It's exactly like you dreamed. Ain't that right, Popstar?"

"Rock is the endgame of all sentient life! Bad words are fuckin' _cool!"_ Poppy shouts, throwing up her horns mindlessly.

Well, she's not wrong on either point, though the statement of plainly evident facts doesn't stop a tear from welling in your eye. Dear old dad never did quite get the chance to thank you for your hard work bringing about _his_ dream, but you know. You didn't do it for the praise, though that would have been nice. You did it for him. And for all of them. 

You take a look out your study window, to your people rock and rolling all night for the fifth consecutive night. Lotta red eyes in that crowd. You sure did do them a big favor. Turning away from them, as you often do, you return your attention to the box. You pop it open, and are washed in that same red light. The troll behind you gasps and slaps something, you imagine it's her cheeks. She's probably hiding her genuine shock behind a facade of smarm. You _hate_ that shit, people should just be genuine with what they feel and think. Using sarcastic disinterest is fucking lame and not very punk rock, in your expert opinion. 

"Hey... Poppy... What do you think of this?" You pull out the Grand Guitar, the sacrilegious instrument wrought from Hell's iron to spread the good word of Rock. Or something like that. You're still working on the mythos. Truth be told, you got it from the Party Palace, but that backstory sucks shit.

"I think it's the coolest thing my unworthy mortal eyes have ever witnessed," she says, in what you assume is mock-awe, "The angels in heaven weep, knowing that you shred the wicked cord on this, the instrument of the damned."

Okay, you gotta admit, that's some good stuff. You scribble that down in your notepad. World building is hard work! 

After a while of silence between you both, you finally decide to strum the guitar a bit for your captive audience. If she can tell your heart isn't in it, she's too zombied out to say anything. It comes out stiff, even with the chords doing most of the heavy lifting. Eventually you give up, and rest your hand on the strings. 

All of music here at your fingertips, and what did you use it for? Everyone talks the same, acts the same. Has an absolutely reckless lack of self preservation skills as they expect society to provide for their needs despite their constant assertions that they reject society. It's like your every paranoid nightmare shaking your hand and saying _"Good job sport, you really shit the bed this time!"_

Your grip tightens on your guitar. "Hey Poptart... What if we just said fuck it to all this, huh?"

"As previously stated: Bad words rule and I love to say _fuck_ , so hell yeah!" She spits and throws out what you can only describe as gang signs.

You smile back at her, fully expecting that answer. Everyone always tells you what you want to hear, even if you haven't even hinted at what that might be. It's honestly kind of creepy sometimes. But not anymore.

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that."

Suddenly, you lift the guitar over your head and smash it on the floor. An explosion of force and red light radiates outward, blowing trash everywhere, knocking several family photos to the floor. Dust falls in heavy sheets, obscuring the scene in a _very_ cinematic way. So much for the instrument of the damned.

You look down at your hands. They're gray. Which... is mostly normal, so you're not sure why you're making a mental note of that. 

Eventually the dust clears, and you're able to look up at something way more mentally noteworthy. Your (hopefully) recently un-zombified tag-along is looking a lot worse for wear color wise, now resembling the walking corpse she literally was until recently (you hope). Swallowing those parenthesis like the lump to end all lumps, you prepare to take yours and pop the question. ...Take your lumps, you mean.

"Poppy?" You cautiously take a step forward. "Are you still like... all husked out?"

The previously pink pop troll, which is a fun bit of alliteration, looks down at her hands, then her feet. Then at you. Confusion is written on her face, before she looks at the broken guitar loosely hanging in your hand. That immediately brings a big smile to her face, followed just as quickly by a frown. She's run the whole gambit of troll emotion in like twelve seconds here, and you're mentally and physically preparing for those lumps you're due, clenched eyes and all. 

When you hear a weird kind of smacking noise, but not an associated sting, you peak an eye open to see Poppy wiping off her... Tongue? 

"Eugh! Ewwww…" She huffs and flicks spit from her hands. "I said so many bad words I can _taste_ them. I'm gonna have to send _so_ many apology letters..."

To say you were kind of astonished by this right now would have been an understatement. You literally enslaved her whole people to rock, and the first thing she does when she regains free will is complain about cussing? Furrowing your brow, you look her up and down."You… You're not mad, or anything?"

Poppy regains composure, and sets to work fixing her hair.

"Oh no, I'm _furious!_ The sheer number of cusses you made me say is honestly unbelievable, and I'm probably going to be spending the rest of my life neck deep in construction paper to fix this." Pausing for a second, she scrunches her face up in thought. "Although, I _do_ love making cards... Actually, you know what, now that I've talked it out maybe I should thank you! Oooh, maybe even in card form!" She claps her hands together, the sight of which seems to make her remember her predicament. "Ugh, but _now_ I look like Branch before he reconciled with himself emotionally. But I'm super in touch with my emotional landscape, so what gives?"

You let the shattered remains of what was once a cheap plastic guitar fall to the floor, before rubbing the back of your neck in the classic awkward fashion. "I uh… I think that one's on me. I think I might've like. Destroyed music? _Whoops!_ "

Okay definitely here comes the lumps. Lumps are fixing to land in the station, courtesy of tiny washed out fists. You bite your lip and close your eyes in preparation for whatever limp wristed beating Poppy could possibly be able to give. 

But the longer you wait, no furious blows befall you. Only a crescendo of laughter. 

She's taking the desecration of melody really well, all things considered. Either that, or this is some hereto unknown level of rage.

"Oh Barb…" Poppy manages, shaking her head, "You can't destroy music!" 

Confused, you hold up the strings that are literally disintegrating in your hands, every note slipping away like sand through your fingers.

"Well okay, I'll give you that you definitely did destroy the _representation_ of music, but... Music doesn't come from some magic troll hair!" Poppy's smile is so bright as she steps forward, somehow, even drained of all color. "If there's one thing I've learned from my time as a prisoner in my own mind, it's that music comes from _here._ "

She places a hand on your chest. You can immediately feel yourself heat up.

"See, your true colors are already coming back! I would have never guessed you were red!"

You smack her hand away in embarrassment, which just elicits a giggle from her.

Backing away, you pinch your forehead with your fingers, trying to get your thoughts in order. "Wait, so you were down in there the whole time? In your brain?" 

Poppy nods her head enthusiastically. "Yeah! I could see out of my eyes and think my own thoughts, but I was totally trapped inside a body that didn't respond to me. I survived the existential nightmare by humming Gangnam Style- Actually, here, I scrap booked it."

She pulls a book out of her hair and opens it up. A little felt Poppy bound in pipe-cleaner chains pops up, tearing at her hair. 

"I think you can really see the dread and terror in my beady little eyes!" She pulls a tab and the mini-Poppy screams in agony. You honestly don't know whether to be filled with intense guilt for the horror you inflicted on these people, or be impressed by how fast she could throw this thing together.

"I literally _just_ unzombied you, how did you-"

"Well for us pop trolls, scrapbooking is not only a vital part in the preservation of our history, but also how we cope with trauma!"

She pulls the scream tab again to close the felt figure's mouth and smiles.

"Aaaaaaaaaand... repressed!"

Yeah, you think you're just going to leave this one be. There's just no time to broach her coping methods when you really should be getting the lead out and… What?

"So what now?" You ask her, throwing your arms out to the side. "I mean, does everyone just go home? What homes aren't still on fire, I mean. I did light like, a _whole lot_ of them on fire."

Poppy assumes a pose of deep thought. "Hmm. You _did_ burn a lot of bridges… Well, we should just tell them that everythings okay now and you're sorry!"

"You sure about that?" You grimace, rubbing the back of your head. The pop queen's thought process is… _optimistic_ at best. "I mean I lit aloooooot of houses on fire. Some of the crew even said _'Barb, dont you think this is too many houses?'_ But I just went ahead and burned some more."

Poppy only smiles again, shaking her head. "Trust me, there is no amount of destruction of private property and sentimental effects that an honest apology and a hug can't fix!"

You shrug. She seems pretty sure of herself, and apologies aren't really rock and roll, so you wouldn't know either way. "Well then, lead the way, your highness."

The two of you make your way towards the front door. Considering the party that had been going on, the united citizens of all of trolldom are probably in the lawn now and could use a little coloring. You always did have some 'colorful' language, so you suppose you're uniquely qualified for the job. But when you step into the main hall, it's completely empty. Not a single useless lump in sight.

"Where is everyone? There's usually at least five or six loiterers around here."

Poppy follows your eyes, hands on her hips. "... Maybe they went outside with the others? I bet they're all putting those _free willed arms_ to good use!"

You raise another eyebrow at her, but she doesn't elaborate. You know she probably means hugs, but you'd like to think they are absolutely moshing out there. For the sanctity of the last shred of cool in this whole kingdom, you _hope_ they're just moshing. 

Before you can take another step forward, a strange sound interrupts your thoughts. Your good ear twitches towards it- a rapid plap of bare feet against rock. You look at Poppy from the corner of your eye. "Hey Popsqueak, do you hear that?"

"Yeah. It kinda sounds like something very sad and angsty..."

You turn around just in time to get bodied by a gray blur. Tumbling to the ground with a grunt, you quickly find yourself underneath yet another washed out grey troll. And just as quickly, you see a drum stick jabbed at your face.

"Good to see you Poppy," he says, face set in a tense frown, "Don't worry. I got her."

"You 'got' me?" You let out a puff of a laugh. "What're you gonna do, thump me with that little twig?"

He quickly snaps the stick, and- Okay, wow, he pulls out a little knife and sharpens it to a point _really_ fast. Now you actually do feel a bit threatened.

"Branch, if you have a knife, why did you need to sharpen the stick?" Poppy groans, running to where he's got you pinned down. She pulls at his vest with a pout. "Come on, get off her."

"It's my whittling knife, I don't wanna get it dirty," he shoots back, but doesn't make any moves to budge. "Also, _why_?! Did you forget that she turned everyone into zombies, and _also,_ apparently, destroyed music?! Look at me, do you know how hard it was to get my true colors back??" He gestures to all his being grayness, giving you time to shove him off. He grunts and scrambles up, and moves to grab at you again, but Poppy stops him in his tracks with a single arm.

"Ugh, she didn't destroy music!" She explains, _again_ , "Music comes from inside!"

He looks down at his heart, which is very much glowing and thumping a tune. "Oh, that? I thought that was just heartburn."

You get up to your feet and dust yourself off. Poppy snatches the sharp stick from Twigly over there, and tosses it away, eliciting a soft "Aw, man..." that seems to fall on deaf ears. 

"Queen Barb here is about to make the biggest apology of all time!" Poppy asserts confidently, giving you a hearty slap on the back that's a lot harder than you would have expected. 

"No, what 'Queen Barb' should, and _will_ do is face the music, which, ironically, 99% of trolls don't have right now!" He puffs up, clearly agitated and accusatory. A stark contrast from Poppy; maybe this pop troll was born with a stick up his ass. "How can you even trust her after what she did? What's to stop her from just doing it again?!"

Poppy rolls her eyes and gestures towards you. "Branch, I _saw_ her unzombie us. She broke all those strings herself! I know it can be hard to forgive someone when they do something terrible, but we all make mistakes."

He just crosses his arms. "Most mistakes don't involve mind prisons."

"Okay, it was a big mistake! But she's just trying to make things right. If you can't trust her, at least trust me." You have to say, you're almost touched at how hard she's going just to back you up. It's stupid, for sure, but also… kind of nice. Broken down for the moment, he sighs and looks over to you, probably expecting you to say something for yourself. You swallow.

"Listen, uh. Um..." 

" _Branch,_ " Branch reminds you with a glare. "Oh, come _on_ , she can't even remember my name! _How_ are you buying this?" 

"Listen Branch. I fuc-" You quickly look over to Poppy who's shaking her head, not approving of your vocabulary. "-I messed up big time, okay? I just want to make things right now. So. I'm going out there to say sorry."

Branch uncrosses his arms and looks back at Poppy, who gives an awkward thumbs up. You get the impression he doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you, (which, taking a look at him, probably isn't far) but it's a start. He sighs again. "Well, you uh… Might not wanna do that. There are trolls out there that threw Poppy and me in the pokey for letting the dogs out. They might not let a _Real_ Heinous, Despicable, Awful-" 

" _Branch_."

"-Crime slide."

Poppy just waves him off. "Pssh, come on, you're just being paranoid again. I'm sure it's gonna be fine!" She walks up to a nearby (busted) window and peaks out of it, gesturing to the crowd below. "See! They've already built a statue to thank her for letting them all go! The ability for trolls to forgive is wonderf- oh. Okay they definitely just set it on fire. Oh, gosh."

Worry creasing her face, she looks back at the two of you. "I hate to say it. I _really_ hate to say it. But I think Branch might be right. It's gonna take a bit more than humility to get through this one, gang."

All three of you look over to the giant iron gate that separates you from the sea of discontent trolls. Luckily they're shut tight, and the banging on the other side is of no concern. At least, not yet.

"Maybe we should go out the back?" Asks Poppy, hopefully, but you just grimace.

"Uh, this is the only way out."

"Oh. _Darn_. Well, I'm sure if we wait, all the trolls out there will get tired... Right?"

Almost as if in response, the pounding gets louder. You all look at each other. Then, eventually, Branch speaks up.

"Well. _Technically_ there is another way out... But it's not great."

"Huh?" Poppy tilts her head. "Oh yeah, you were the fixer upper, right?"

Then it clicks. "Oh yeah, I totally forgot you were mulletboy!" You laugh, pointing at an incredibly unamused Branch. "So where's this secret back door? Did my dad, like, dig a secret tunnel that I didn't know about?"

He makes a face. "In a manner of speaking."

" _Classic Branch,_ always with the encyclopedic knowledge of all emergency exits!" Poppy says fondly, cracking a huge grin. "Well, lead the way Captain!"

Branch doesn't seem all that enthusiastic about it, but nonetheless takes the lead as you turn your back on the door. And not too soon- there's a loud crash, and you see the iron doors blown off their hinges, flying across the room. 

_"There she is!"_

All three of you look back, and from your vantage you can't see the horror on your compatriots faces. You wouldn't understand even if you could. In the clearing of the ripped apart doors stands just a little yellow tyke of a troll, eyes wide and panting.

"Smidge- Smidge no!" Poppy cries out, arms outstretched. "This isn't what you think!"

The tiny troll slaps her hands to her cheeks. "Oh my guh.... First you kill music, then you re-zombie Poppy?! You _monster!"_

Poppy shakes her head quickly, stepping forward, only to be held back by Branch. "No, Smidge, the music is in our _hearts_ , okay? I'm not a zombie!" 

There's a pause. Smidge hangs her head low, balling up her little fists. You don't get why Poppy is so worried when she's literally knee high. Then the troll raises her head, fire in her eyes and a snarl so vicious you weren't even aware a pop troll could pull it off. "The only thing that's going to be in her heart... _IS MY FIST!"_

You recoil back as she sprints at you full force, suddenly understanding the true definition of fear. You freeze, like a Country Troll in bug lights. That is, until the previously pink pop queen's hand finds yours, yanking you forward. 

_"RUUUUUUUUUN!!!"_

Your fight or flight response finally kicks in, and though it comes with a hearty helping of shame, you absolutely book it away from the yellow beast. More trolls have joined her by now. If you had the time or the bravery to look behind you, you'd see that none of them look like they're in any more of a forgiving mood.

The hallways turn into a blur as you run as fast as you can, Branch leading the way to the hopeful exit. In your hasty retreat, you pass by a funk troll that seems much less vindictive than those behind you.

"Hey Poppy, I'm all gray!"

"The music's inside you Cooper!" Poppy yells back to him as you run on by.

"Oh yeah," he laughs, "This was a very quickly solved problem!"

Further down the hall, Branch throws open a door, and the three of you fall in. He slams the door behind you all, and stuffs a shovel in between the handles. "This isn't gonna stop her for long. We gotta hurry."

Taking quick stock of the room, panic turns to anger. This is a fucking bathroom, and also a complete dead end. 

"Oh _great,"_ Turning to Poppy to break the bad news, you throw your arms outwards, gesturing all around. "Dipstick here just led us into a corner! Encyclopedic knowledge my ass, we're absolutely boned!"

Poppy laughs nervously, and looks over to Branch. "She's wrong, right? You definitely didn't just trap us between a rock and-"

There's a loud bang on the other side of the door, followed by a frustrated, guttural scream.

"-and _Smidge_ , right?"

"No, there is a way out of here. But I told you, it's not going to be nice." He reluctantly approaches a stall, and a fresh new horror dawns on you.

"Are… Are you saying we have to flush ourselves down the Terlet?"

Branch sticks his tongue out in disgust. "Ugh, what? No! Could you _imagine_ the hair clog?" He passes by the stall, making you breathe a sigh of relief, and instead gestures to a panel on the wall. "We gotta take the gunk chute. This is where I was dumping all the garbage that wouldn't flush. It goes straight outside."

Your face falls and you look at Poppy, who mirrors your concern. She holds her hands behind her back, nervously. "Uh, w… What kind of garbage?"

Branch hangs his head, eyes cast in shadow, as he pulls open the chute. "It's better you dont ask."

You almost consider just turning back and facing the horde of the disgruntled discolored, but the sound of the wooden door splintering behind you helps to make up your mind. While Branch is carefully climbing in, you practically shove him down.

"Woah, hey, watch it!"

"Come on," you shout, "I'm not dying in the John!" Finally you successfully force him down and scramble in like so many cockroaches yourself, down into the damp, dark slide.

Behind you, Poppy readies herself for the plunge, only for the door and shovel combo to finally give out. She looks back as the wooden splinters fly out across the room. Smidge, with a small army of all different walks of life, stands among the dust and wreckage, fists raised.

"Poppy, I'm your helper!" She calls desperately, "I can fix your brain!"

"I'm sorry, Smidge," replies Poppy, stepping backwards into the hole. A tuft of hair slams against the steel wall, narrowly missing the descending troll. 

Your pursuer scrambles to continue that pursuit, but several of the trolls hold her back.

"That's a Terlet tube, you can't go down that! It's dirty!" One of them shouts.

Hanging her head, Smidge finally calms down. As much as she would like to save her friend, going down a mystery chute in a bathroom is not the right call. Admitting this temporary defeat, she can only stamp her foot in anger.

_"FUCK!"_

The pop trolls around her gasp. Smidge looks back at them, shrugging her shoulders. "What? Those words _are_ pretty cool..."


	3. Outlaw

You hold your nose as you make your desolate slide, the rancid air whooshing by as you pick up speed. Finally, a light appears at the end of the tunnel, and you all scream as you're spit out into the light of day. The ground rushes towards you, a sea of plastic bags stretching in every direction as far as you can see. Branch exits first, and you hear a groan before bracing for impact, doing your best to protect your bread and butter. Luckily, the garbage does a fair job of breaking your fall.

It only hurts a little bit. After taking a moment to process the impact, you slowly pick yourself up, not much worse for wear. 

"Eugh,” you groan, wrinkling your nose as the smell hits you, “I think I would’ve rather tried taking Fruit Punch up there..."

Flicking a banana peel off your shoulder, you take quick stock of your outfit. You don't even want to think about what those stains could be... Your eyes move up to spot Branch rising from the landfill too. You know what? The caked on trash _really_ matches his outfit.

"Trust me, you _don't,_ " he groans, shaking out his hair. He's probably right about that, you doubt those muscles were lying.

"At least she smelled nice..."

Speaking of smelling nice, you watch woefully as Poppy breaches the debris. You're kind of going to miss that nice strawberry smell she always had… Blinking, you shake your head quickly and extinguish that thought. _Where did that come from?_

"I'm okay!" The Pop Queen shouts, a thumbs up high in the air. You and Branch both clamber down Dump Mountain to help her up and out. Each taking an arm, you yank her out of her smelly tomb with only a little effort. There’s a grateful smile exchanged, before she stands and wipes herself off. "Well that was really fun for a little bit! Then it very much wasn't."

Watching her, you’re almost surprised to see the uncharacteristic expression on her face as she looks over herself.

"Poppy are you…” Your mouth hangs open, pointing at her. “Are you _frowning?"_

She gasps in shock, whirling around to catch her reflection in a piece of junk metal. "Oh no, is this what you feel like all the time, Branch? Is this what it's like to be a sad little man?"

You hold back a chuckle, definitely not expecting an unrocked Pop-rock to go for the throat like that. Taking a deep breath, the sad little man straightens out his vest.

_"Uncalled for."_

Poppy laughs, and nudges him in the arm.

You think you can see the exact moment her brain cuts off the adrenaline and the two of them remember they're in Rock Nation's world famous dump. Their faces crinkle at the stench. They both reach into their hair, and produce a clothes pin for quick nose closeage. Following suit, you reach up into your Mohawk, but your hand just comes out the other side. _No fair._

"So, not that I don't love smelling like just absolute ass..." You kick a tin can and some kind of brown gunk spills out. "But could we maybe get the lead out?" 

While you'd like to sit back and see if Poppy had any more personal attacks on the mighty mullet, hanging around in a dump isn't really your scene anymore. You've outgrown that phase.

Branch nods his head. "No arguments from me."

Poppy pulls some loose noodles out of her hair, looking like she's about to barf. "Please, _let's_. Ugh, there’s not enough water on the planet to wash all this out."

It took a while before you all could breathe air free from stink particles, the landfill around the city as vast as it was. You take a mental note that, when things cleared up, you’d do something about it. If they ever did. It’s only when you make distance from that dark edge that you all breathe a collective sigh of relief, hunkering down on the cool volcanic glass that outlines your domain. 

You put your hands on your (surprisingly) achy knees, and let your eyes fall on to your newfound acquaintances. If you can call them that. If they aren’t going to split now that you’re all safely out of harm’s way. Swallowing, you speak. "Well, so what now? Do we just go back? I don't think they're gonna be any more receptive to a heartfelt apology now that we've gone down the terlet."

After a brief moment of thought, Poppy begins pulling out sheets of felt and pipe cleaners. Coping time. Got it. 

"Okay, so you've said that twice now," says Branch, arms crossed. You snap your attention to the third wheel. "It's _toilet."_

You furrow your brow. The fuck’s a toilet. "The fuck’s a _toilet?"_

He touches his hand to his forehead with a grimace. "The thing you keep calling a ‘Terlet.’ That's not a word."

"Yeah huh, yes it is!” You respond incredulously, crossing your arms right back. “Sorry they don't have terlets where you come from, but-"

Poppy slams her book shut, and you both snap to attention.

"... And done!” She smiles with satisfaction. “Alright, gather around, here's the plan."

When the two of you scoot close enough to see over her shoulder, she opens her scrapbook back open. It’s a bright and colorful little felt representation of your Volcano Rock City.

"So, going back up is out of the question." She pulls a tab, and an (admittedly kind of cute) little felt Barb pops up. You perk up.

"Oh hey, it's a little me!"

She pulls another tab, and a bunch of other Trolls of various cultures pop up, yelling misgivings about your character while they beat the shit out of little you. Your ears immediately fold back.

"How could you do that to me?"

“So-” Ignoring you, she turns the page. This next one has a map of the entire Troll country. "Most trolls are going to be heading home, probably. Pull that tab for me?"

When you oblige, a little gray troll pops up and emits a squeaky "I’m very sad and going home!”

"So all we'd have to do is go to each kingdom, convince the trolls there that you feel just _awful_ about what you did, and move on to the next!"

She pulls the third tab, and some of the trolls that were kicking your little felt ass one page ago now look a lot more amicable. You frown, looking at her from the corner of your eye.

"But- and no offence Pop n’ lock- but what if they _aren't_ in a forgiving mood?" 

"You'd be surprised how fast most folks are to forgive,” replies Poppy, tilting her head, “but I see what you're saying. If not, welllllll..."

She flips back to the previous page, where you're still getting wailed on. The poor little Barb, laying on the ground with her hands over her head, yells "I deserve this!" 

"Yeah… You bet she does..." Branch scoffs under his breath. Little man is getting a bit big for his britches, it seems. You sigh and step back, hands on your hips.

"So either they forgive me, or I get wailed on. I'm not gonna lie, Poppy, I'm not liking those odds."

Poppy just laughs and waves your concerns away. "Oh, don't be such a worrywart! If Pop kind can forgive decades of being eaten alive, I’m sure some trolls can get past a little near cultural annihilation!"

Woah, wait, hold up. You turn back to her, eyes wide. 

"E-excuse me? _Eaten alive?"_

"Yeah, the Bergens!” Poppy says, lighting up like a candle. “They used to pluck us from our homes like grapes, but now we're friends!"

You look at Branch, incredulous, but he only looks down at his feet.

"... Whenever I look at them I can still hear my grandma crying for help," he mutters.

What the _fuck_ is going on with these two? Their lives are nightmares.

"Are you two _okay?"_ You ask, more out of confusion than anything else. They both look at you funny.

"Yeah, I’m doing good?"  
  
"I’m a bit hungry, but otherwise..."

You scowl, but decide to drop it. Of course you have to hitch your ride to the two volume encyclopedia of trauma. Maybe you fit in with this crowd more than you thought.

"Okay, well, if we're just gonna brush that one under the carpet..."

"Like this?" Asks Poppy, who flips to a page that shows, very literally, her sweeping her demons under the rug. Well, at least she's _aware._ You almost want to laugh.

"Yuh huh, exactly like that. So if we're doing that, then I gotta ask…” You move to sit back down, looking between the two. “How do you figure we actually get to the other kingdoms? I mean, I’m all for a nice brisk walk, but also I think I’d rather be dead?"

Poppy finally closes the book. You're really gonna have to make a mental note to batten down the hatches when that thing comes out, because it's two for zero on posting up some Shit.

"Well that's an easy one,” She says, stowing the thing away, “We can just take your critterbike!"

Oh yeah, in the commotion you totally forgot you had a license.

"I completely forgot about that,” you chuckle a little, scratching the back of your head, “Yeah, okay, I'm liking this plan a _lot_ better. It's parked up in the fortress, let's go grab it!"

The two of them look over your shoulder at something in the distance. You don't turn around to confirm what it is, but had you done so, you'd see your mattress being tossed out of the window of your castle, subtracting another glass pane from the opacity of your keep.

Branch clears his throat. "Uh, maybe going back up is a bad idea right now."

Hmmm. He's probably right, the situation is pretty volatile up there, and if you kick the nest anymore, they might get mad enough to touch your stuff. You frown, rubbing your chin. 

Poppy raises her hand. "Ooo, _oo ooo!"_

Perking up, you point at her. "You down in front, whatcha got?"

"What if we ask one of your friends to bring it down to us?"

Getting someone at a lower station in life than you to incur risk on your behalf? What could be more rock and roll than that? But who to contact…?

After a moment’s thought, you grin.

"Okay. Yeah, okay, I bet I can get a message to Carol!"

Silence.  
  
"Uh, you mean _Carol_ Carol?" asks Poppy hesitantly.

"Yeah! She's my BFF! She does this _great_ thing where I try to talk to her, and then she just completely ghosts me for like months on end! She doesn't even give me the time of day, it's great!" You sigh with content, leaning back in your seat. _"Classic_ Carol."

The pop trolls share a concerned look, before Branch steps forward.

"Uh, Barb, I don't think Carol-"

Poppy quickly slaps a hand over his mouth.

"- should be bothered with this right! I mean, she probably hates that, is what he was gonna say. _Right,_ Branch?"

He nods his head quickly, and she releases his mouth. And he does have a point. Carol _hates_ when you bother her. She makes sure to let you know that you being within her vicinity is a huge bother. With such a vital friendship being the core of your being, you can't risk jeopardizing it, even for a mission this important.  
  
Poppy frowns, thinking again- the list of trolls you’re still on good terms with wasn’t long, you supposed- before she lights back up again. "Whaaaaat about Riff?"

You cringe a bit when you hear his name.

"Oh, uh… Me and Riff kind of... had a falling out.” You tug at the collar of your ratty tank top. “I don’t think he'd be in the helping mood."

Once again, Poppy quickly dismisses your concerns. "Nah, Riff’s a nice guy! I think? That whole stretch of time is kinda hazy. But listen, I’m sure a nice heartfelt apology card will win him back over!" 

Humming happily, she starts pulling out the felt and pipe cleaner again. Jeez, how much of this shit does she have?

"I'll make the card, you'll just have to provide the pipes!" She extends a microphone your way with an encouraging little smile that’s hard to look at, for some reason.  
  
Okay, apology card. For Riff. Got it. 

Here you go.

"Ahem. Aheeeeeem. Hmmmmmgh.” You cough a bit, before turning to the microphone. _“LISTEN UP SHITHEAD. IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YOU, YOU’LL FORGIVE ME, OR I’M GOING TO-"_

Poppy quickly yanks the mic back, a shocked look on her face. You blink.

"...Too much?"

Wincing, she holds her fingers just barely apart.

"Maybe, just a _teeny_ bit. Maybe... Dial back the aggression a bit?"

"Okay okay,” you huff, straightening up, “Here, let me try again."

She nervously holds out the mic to you again, giving you a thumbs up. 

_"I HOPE YOU'RE NOT CRUISING FOR A BRUISING, CAUSE IF YOU ARE, YOU'RE GOING TO FIND THIS CARD VERY DISAPPOINTING!"_

Branch groans, features falling into a deadpan.

"This is going to be a _disaster."_

* * *

Poppy wipes the sweat from her brow, wrist sore from holding the microphone for what seems like hours. She runs a hand through her fluffy pink hair before extending it out once more. One last shot.  
  
You grunt, finally, and lean in close.

"Hey, Riff. S… _Sorry_ about the Rockpocolypse. Could you bring me my bike? Thanks, man. Respectfully, Barb."

There’s a sigh of relief as Poppy finally puts the mic back in her hair. "Well, it’s maybe not the best, but it's much better! Right, Branch?"

"Not really a high bar to set, so yeah," he shrugs, head slumped into his hand.

You suppose you can’t blame them for the frustration, but you're doing your best, okay? This kind of shit doesn't come easy to you. The Thrash family motto has always been to Triple Down, even if, and _especially_ when, you are absolutely in the wrong.

"Now we just gotta figure out how to get it to him.... Oh, I know!" Poppy quickly folds the card into a little airplane. "Perfect. Alright, time to get this humble train a rollin’!"

Throwing the airplane, she watches with wide eyes as it catches on the wind, off to its destination. That destination being right back into Poppy's face.

"Augh, ow, it got me in the eye!” There’s a hiss of pain, before she wipes away the tears, gritting her teeth. “Okay new plan. We wait for the wind to change, then we put the apology coal in the humble train." 

Rolling your eyes, you speak up. _"Or,_ we could just call Debbie! She’s like, the best little mailbat in the whole kingdom." You can see the light of excitement bubbling up inside your partner at the mention of her name. Your partner in crime, you mean. Well, actually, you guess it's the opposite of crime. You put up your hand to her. " _No_ makeovers this time."

And just as quickly that light is dashed upon the stones. She pouts. 

"Not even just a _tiny_ one? A little glitter?"

"Do you know how many weeks it took me to get it all out the first time? No way!"

Completely stoic, Branch raises two thumbs. "If things go south, I got _these._ I'm ready for her."

Is he going to beat Debbie in a thumb war or something? Fat fucking chance, she's held that belt for half a decade. Anyway. 

Deciding to follow the Mighty Mullet's example, you pull your own thumb out of your ass (so to speak) and whistle a sharp, piercing noise that echoes through the surrounding area.

After about a minute of nothing but intense staring into the distance, Poppy breaks the silence.

"Um, Barb? Was something supposed to happen?"

"Just give her a minute, okay? She put on a little weight. It's fine."

Soon enough you hear a flapping of wings, and all the worries about the ramifications of your war crimes just melt away. You're nearly bowled over as the little fuzz ball slams into your chest in a flurry of flapping leather and thick white hair. 

"Aw, there's my little hairy baby!” You coo, letting Debbie burrow up into your shirt with a raspy little growl. You almost want to cry. _“Oh_ you're _so_ big and fat, I could just squeeze you to _death!"_

"D'aww..." You hear Poppy say, putting a hand to her cheek.

Weirdly, you forgot you had company. Heat crawls down your face as you let your baby wiggle up and out, and straighten out your tank top. She lands on your shoulder, refusing to allow you the personal space one needs to reestablish Coolness. You swallow thickly and look away in embarrassment. 

"Umhm. Uh, anyway... Poppy just, give her the letter!"

Poppy extends the apology card bat-ward, but recoils with a frown when your little baby child hisses at her. Scowling, Branch readies his thumbs (you guess?) You give Debbie a gentle scritch on the back of the head, shushing her.

"Aw come on Debbie, you know Popsqueak! Maybe she doesn't look as _cool,_ but..."

Hesitantly, Debbie hops off your shoulder, flapping her way over to the Pop Queen. After a few once overs, she calms down, and hunkers down in her hair. You grin.

"Yeah see, she remembers you!"

Poppy raises a hand to pet her, and Debbie eagerly leans in to accept.

"Just watch her face, alright?” You say, “Some dipshit pop troll jabbed her in the eyes and messed up her, like, _corneas,_ or something."  
  
You notice out of the corner of your eye Branch suddenly holstering those two thumbs of his, before whistling nonchalantly. Poppy nods her understanding, carefully petting the areas that aren’t Debbie’s big goofy face.

"You know the first time this was pretty horrible but now it's kinda cute,” she giggles, giving her a hearty little rub, “Hey there lil’ girl! You really love it up there, don'tcha?"

"Yeah, she used to nest in there all the time!” You shake your head fondly, hands on your hips. “I started storing spare worms for her in there, there might still be some left over..."

Looking sick, Poppy puts the petting on hold to reach her hand into her hair.

"I’m _kidding,_ that was a joke!"

"Oh, thank guh..." she sighs, letting her hand fall to her sides, much to Debbie’s disappointment.

You're not kidding. It's not a joke. Luckily, you're pretty sure her scalp stock is all depleted, so no harm no foul! Man, you're _really_ glad she remembers basically nothing from her zombie days.

Branch stops his guilty fidgeting to speak up. "Uh, Poppy? The card?"

 _"OH,_ right!" Poppy exclaims, lightly smacking her forehead. She pulls out a piece of string, and gently ties the card around Debbie’s ankle. "There we go, one carrier bat all ready to go!"

She removes the precious cargo from her head nest, and motions to hand her off to you. You step forward, but she pulls her back before you get a chance to touch her.

“Wait!” She shouts, and you quickly retract your arms. Poppy reaches back into her hair, and pulls out a little mailman's hat. She presses it onto Debbie’s big head, before giving her a sound pat.

_"There,_ perfect."

Forking the baby over, she leaves you to admire her handiwork. You did say no makeovers, but... It’s A Very Small Hat, and you are here for it. Huffing, you bring her up to eye level with you.

"Alright, Debbie. I need you to do mommy a favor, alright? Get this-" You jostle the card on her ankle. "Get this to Riff, alright? You know Riff, tall fella, big nose, has like... Well..."

You let your wrist go limp.

_"You know...?"_

Poppy looks over to Branch, who just shrugs. Debbie, however, is cool and in the know, and screeches an affirmative in your face. You grin and ruffle her fur.

 _"Thata girl!_ You ready?"

The bat hops down into your open hand, and you rear back. Chucking her like a football, she spirals into the air before she quickly takes flight, back homeward.

"Alright,” you sligh, plopping back down onto the cool volcanic glass, “she'll find him in no time. Probably. If he didn't like... Move."

The other two trolls follow suit. 

Look at you, a bunch of Trolls sitting in the dirt like a couple of assholes. 

Branch decides to break the silence. You see he is no sultan of sit.

"Uh, guys? Might not be such a good idea for us to sit out here in the open. We're an easy target for any angry trolls, and..." His voice drops to no more than a whisper. "And easy prey for birds." His eyes shoot skyward. Poppy groans, giving you an impression that this must be some fucking thing with this guy. 

But he's right. Debbie might take a hot minute, and you all can't really afford to camp within eyesight of the keep. You slap your hands on your knees, and move to stand back up. "Alright, where to then, shorty?"

As if he had already been waiting for you to ask, he pulls some binoculars out of- you guessed it- his hair, and scans the horizon. _How do they keep this much stuff in there?_

"There,” he says, jabbing out a finger, “there are some nice rocks that'll be great cover."

"Alright, way to go Branch!” Cheered Poppy, slapping him on the back, “Next time I go out rock spotting, you'll be my plus one."

Branch puts up his binoculars, a look of pride on his face. You just roll your eyes, following them as they make their way forward.

"I coulda seen those rocks, too," You mumble under your breath.

* * *

The three of you settle down in a nice spattering of large rocks, the outcroppings forming a perfect camp sized circle in the middle. And good thing, too, with night fast approaching. You see Poppy shiver a bit, and furrow your brow. You forget how cold it can get out here, this far from the volcano. 

You lean back and pick something out of your teeth.

"Hey, wood boy."

Branch, realizing you mean him, sighs and crosses his arms.

"Do you really have to keep calling everyone some kind of dumb nickname? You can just use our real names."

You wave him off. It's fun to make up new names, it keeps folks on their toes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you have like, a fire kit up in that tool box?" You gesture at his hair. He perks up, before digging his hand inside.

"Oh, actually, yes, I do!"

Of course he does. You swear, these weaves seem like they just have whatever the fuck these guys need at any given time. It's kind of bullshit. He pulls out like, an _entire_ log, and a few sticks, before doing the classic stick spinny thing that gets the fire going. You don't know why people always act like it’s such a big deal. It looks _super_ easy.

Poppy gratefully moves to warm herself by the fire, color returning to her features. Well, metaphorically, since she's still gray. Pulling your eyes away from her, you scoot up to the fire yourself, fingers drumming against your thigh.

"So hey, why aren’t we all normal colored again?" You ask, after a moment.

Branch looks up, following your gaze over Poppy's way too.

"Yeah, I've been wondering that, too. My heart stopped glowing a while back."

Poppy thinks on it for a second- or, at least, you _think_ it's a thinking pose she's doing. 

"Well, one person can't keep a whole genre alive, right?" She glances over at you. Oh wow, that's like almost specifically phrased to make you have guilt memories. "We probably just need a lot more trolls to find their music again to bring the color back!"

You guess that makes sense. Although, anything makes sense to you right now. It's been a long day. You're about ready to just flop face down in the fire and hit the fucking hay. Branch shakes his head, reaching for his whittling knife and a spare stick.

"We can worry about all that tomorrow. For now, we need to worry about the dangers of the outdoors. Who knows what kind of monsters are out on the prowl right now?"

You raise your hand, leaning back on your other arm.

"I do, and, heh, they're _pretty_ gnarly."

"Exactly,” responds Branch curtly, beginning to sharpen his tool, “Which is why we need to establish a night watch!"

There’s a puff of breath from your nose. You were really ready to pass out, but you rather not get eaten in the night... And maybe you can earn some credibility with this guy if you offer to help out. Show that, yeah, you've got shit tons of remorse. _Overflowing_ with it, even.

"I'll take the first watch, then,” you say, “Let you chumps get some sleep."

"Oh no, I’m not leaving you alone with our lives!” Rebuffs Branch, shaking his head. He jabs his newly made jabbing stick in your direction for emphasis. “Poppy might trust you, but _I_ still think you're a rat."

Poppy shoots him a dirty look, but he doesn't back down. "Jeez, it's okay, Branch, she's not gonna feed us to the hounds."

"She might! Do we have any evidence that she _won't?"_

Poppy rolls her eyes and sighs. "Ugh, if it’ll help you feel better, I’ll stay up on watch with her."

His look shifts from steadfast dedication of suspicion to concern. "You sure about that?"

"If it'll help you feel safer, then of course," replies Poppy with a gentle nod.

This dude _really_ doesn't like you. Wow. Usually you have to, like... Well, actually, you're kind of used to this sentiment. Hm.

"Alright, fine,” Branch sighs, “But if she tries anything... They're in the usual spot..."

"Uh, what is?” Poppy laughs and tilts her head. “Are we still talking about Barb?"

"What? No, I mean- I mean the pointy sticks, I've got one right... You know what? Never mind." Shaking his head, he begins to hunker down on the most comfortable rock he can find to catch a bit of rest. But not before doing that finger eye gesture at you, the ‘I’m watching you’ one.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you snort.

Fucking gott’em.

* * *

Hours pass in mostly silence. You and Poppy sit at the edge of the makeshift camp, the fires warmth a distant memory. You aren’t sure what to say, now that it’s all calmed down. As if you have anything to say to her when she’s been as forgiving as she has been. 

The troll beside you curls tightly into her blanket. Fortunately, the burning flames of rock keep you plenty warm. So warm, you can almost start to feel your eyelids droop, exhaustion creeping up your body.

"Long day, huh?"

You snap back to reality, as if giving a farewell to gravity. Poppy’s looking at you, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Huh? Oh, yeah,” you groan, looking towards your castle, far in the distance. The dim glow of the volcano is the brightest light on the horizon. _“Fuck,_ it's only been one day. I feel like it's been a year."

"Tell me about it," replies Poppy, with a tired little laugh. 

A loud snore has you looking over your shoulder at Branch. Are his...

"Is he... _Watching_ me?"

Frowning, Poppy looks back over her shoulder as well. 

"Oh, no he just sleeps like that sometimes. He says keeping his eyes open keeps predators away." She sighs and shakes her head. "He goes through so many eye drops..."

With a grimace, you rub the back of your neck. "He really doesn’t like me, huh?"

"No!” she blurts out, before pausing. “Well, I mean, no yeah he doesn’t trust you like at all. But that's actually really normal for him, he's like that to everyone new!”

She sits up and scoots over closer to you, and you tilt back slightly, not used to the close contact. If she notices she doesn’t seem to care, though, because she only continues, “There was this party crasher named Archer, right? You actually remind me of him a little. Anyway. So Branch hated him from the start, _just_ because he tried to sell out our village to a tribe of invaders!"

"Uh, Poppy...?” You grimace, raising an eyebrow. 

"No, yeah, I heard myself saying it.” She shakes her head. “ _The point is,_ just give him some time. He'll warm up to ya."

You fidget with your tank top a little, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. It’s hard to meet her eyes. But eventually you manage it, voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

"So like... why did _you_ trust me so quickly? I mean, hell, you of all people should have seen the heights of bastard I reached."

Poppy puts a hand on your arm, and you freeze up. You look up at her, and the way she’s staring at you, with so much heart-aching sweetness, is almost too much. 

"Because you made a choice to be _better,”_ she says. “Even the worst person can make the choice to be good! Not that you're the _worst_ person. Trust me, Barb, I've met some real stinkers."

That brings a genuine little snaggletoothed smile to your face. You'd hate to see the motherfucker that's somehow worse than you.

"Besides, I honestly barely remember what happened while I was all-" Letting you go, she puts her arms out in front of her. _"-bleeeeugh_ , so it can’t have been that bad!"

You don't have a response to that. Even _looking_ at her would make you feel guilty right now. It's good that she doesn't know, at the very least.

Realizing you aren’t planning to continue the conversation, she leans back on her hands, idly blowing her hair from her face. "Sooooo... You ever star gazed?"

"I mean, I've looked at the sky before?" You reply with a shrug.

"Yeah, but have you ever _gazed_ at it? Here, come here." Poppy doesn't so much as wait for you to come closer as she scoots right up against you herself. With a big grin, she drapes her blanket over your shoulder, and points at the sky. Good. You think you would pop a gasket if you had to look at her.

"See that right there?” she says excitedly, “That's Trolley’s Comet!"

You watch, eyebrows raised, as a bright light streaks across the sky and passes beyond the horizon. 

"Oh, huh. That was pretty neat. Is that one of those once in a lifetime things?"

“What?” Poppy snorts. “Nah, it comes by every thirty seconds. Look, there it is again!"

You watch it streak by again. And again. And again. 

Kinda loses its magic real fast.

You and Poppy keep your eye on the sky in relative silence, watching strangely punctual celestial bodies do their rounds. The feeling of her skin against yours is enough to keep you wide awake, tensing up every time she shifts to get comfortable. 

Well... it _was_ silent, until the sound of a gentle snore from your side. Poppy’s head tilts against you, the night watch clearly being a bit much for her. Or, maybe, it's just been an even longer day for her than you. 

Either way, you don't hate it.

_This is way better when she's not a zombie, right?_

That intrusive thought makes you grimace and almost recoil in disgust. Fucking, _what are you doing?_ After everything that happened, what you _did_ … 

You sigh and gently shift her head off your shoulder, letting it rest in her arms on the stone below. 

This is going to be a _grueling_ apology tour.

  
  



	4. A Little Respect

The ex-pop troll sits beside you on the edge of your bed, her eyes casting a dim red glow across your room. You do your best to ignore it. Guilt and anticipation mingle into a thick bile in your throat, a concoction you've swallowed time and time again. 

You deserve this. It'll just be once.

"Poppy, I..." You turn to her, the vacancy in her eyes making you wince. If she notices... No, she doesn't notice. The only thing in there is your instructions, nothing else. You should just tell her to call it off, this is-

Then she takes your hand, and you freeze.

"Yes, your Shredderness, what _ever_ could you need?" There's a playfulness to her voice, a bit of a flare you didn't explicitly instruct her on. Maybe there _is_ something there...?

Hands shaking, you swallow, again, out of reflex. "J-just once, okay?"

Your heart is beating out of your chest as she gets closer. You're the queen of rock, you deserve this, right? It's a stressful, underappreciated job... So what if you have to ask a zombie to appreciate you for once. So what if everytime you look at her a knot ties itself in your gut? You tightly shut your eyes, so you don't have to see the emptiness in hers, and wait.

The kiss never comes.

You feel her so close, why did she stop?

"Do you know why the tree got in trouble?” You hear her say, “Because it was being knotty..."

Confused, you peek one eye open. 

But it’s not Poppy's face that greets you. Instead, it's the intense, unblinking stare of her plus one.

_"WHAT THE FUCK?!"_

* * *

You jolt awake, grabbing at your pounding chest. God, what a fucking _nightmare._ You look over to the other end of the campsite, where your ‘companions’ seem to be up and at it already. 

"Branch, I'm sorry,” Poppy sighs, hands on her hips, “I know you _really_ want it to land, but that joke’s always been terrible."

"What? No, you just don't get it. Here, let me walk you through it again. Trees have knots, right? So-"

You groan, alerting them to your consciousness. Poppy seems excited to have an excuse to duck out of her conversation, because she swerves her attention right your way.

"Oh, morning Barb! How'd you- oh, _wow_ , you don't look so hot," She frowns, tilting her head.

You just brush off her concern. "Eh, just a weird dream, is all."

Getting up off the hard ground to stretch, you try to get some of the ache out of your back. You're no stranger to passing out on the floor, but you think your bones are just about fed up with it. 

"Oh! I had a dream too!" She replies excitedly, bouncing over to you. 

"Hey! We were discussing my great joke, remember?" Branch butts in, but Poppy has resolved to not engage him in his comedy theory, it would seem.

"What was yours about? Ooo, we could all share our dreams, that's some real friend bonding material right there!" She clasps her hands hopefully, but you lean back a little, scratching your head.

"Oh, uh... I don't really remember much of it," You lie. At the very least, you feel like it might be a bit... Risque for her, and also you would rather swim back through the landfill with your mouth open than tell her anything about it. Poppy’s face falls, seeming rather disappointed.  
  
"Uh, you were in it, though?" You add, with an uneasy smile.

That seems to perk her right back up. _"Really?_ You were in mine too! Wow, it's like we're already BFFs!"

"Pfft, as if," you deflect, though, admittedly, you _are_ a bit interested in what Poppy's subconscious had to say. "But uh... What was yours about?"

Poppy pulls out a regular journal from her hair, (which you're thankful for- if you had to go through one of her scrapbook projects _this_ early in the morning...) and thumbs through it until she gets to the most recent page.

"Okay, let's see. We were riding through the forest, and had to take shelter in a big stump... Oh, and I broke like, _every_ bone in my body?"

You wince. Sounds like a bad dream. "Ouch..."

"Oh but it wasn't that bad! Then we uh. Oh, haha, _wow_ ," Poppy hesitates and decides not to continue. You swear you see a bit of color come back to her face before she slowly closes the journal and puts it back into her hair.

"Well, what happened next?" You ask. Poppy looks nervous, fidgeting with the edge of her dress. 

"Haha, uh, well, I got better! HEY Branch, you were talking about that hilarious joke?"

Perking up immediately, Branch points a stick at the diagram he had apparently been carving into a rock this whole time. "Well you see, trees commonly have a clump in them, called a knot..."

It is _too_ early in the morning for this, so you just tune him out. You almost want to pry into Poppy's dream, but from the sounds of it, it wasn't a very good one. The thought that she had a bad dream about you makes you feel a little sick to the stomach, actually... 

No, wait.

A loud growling causes Branch to go into high alert. Pulling out one of those sticks he loves so much, he starts pointing it every which way, moving closer to Poppy's side. Her eyes follow his, nervous, looking for even the slightest hint of danger.

The growl sounds off again. You frown, looking down. "Oh, whoops, I think that's me. I haven't eaten in like, a day."

Poppy and Branch relax, both holding their stomachs.

"Oh yeah! With all the excitement I completely forgot the importance of a well balanced breakfast! Luckily, I have..." Poppy reaches into her hair, and pulls out a completely empty jar, save for a single pretzel. "Ta-d- _aw…_ I guess my trail mix didn't survive this harrowing trail... Branch, you got anything?"

He reaches into his hair as well, coming up empty handed. There's an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. Guess we have to _scavenge_ if we want a meal."

Poppy doesn't seem too thrilled at the idea, and while you're sure Branch is just dying to scrounge up some worms to suck on, you'd rather step forward yourself. Make yourself _useful_ , at least.

"Relax, I got this," You say, getting down on all fours. Finding a good spot to start, you begin knocking on the cool rock. 

"Uh, Barb?" Poppy asks, chuckling nervously. "Whatcha doin' over there?"

You wave a hand at her. The last thing you needed was for her to scare them away. "Shsh, shut up! My dad taught me this."

"I thought we'd at least make it a day before the wilderness madness sunk in..." Branch sighs, putting his hands into his vest pockets.

There's a minute or two of rapping your knuckles against the hard ground, moving inch by inch. When you finally hear a hollow sound in return, you smile and stand back up.

"Alright, yeah, don't worry guys. We got breakfast right here."

Poppy and Branch wince as you punch through the thin sheet of rock. It only takes a little bit of digging before you yank your hand out, triumphantly holding a wriggling rock lobster.

"You want us... To eat that...?" Asks Poppy with a grimace. 

The lobster turns its sad, puppy dog eyes to the others, pleading in a pathetic attempt to save its life. 

"Well, no, _duh,"_ you scoff, rolling your eyes. They exhale in relief, and the lobster wipes the sweat off its brow. 

"We gotta cook it first, what kind of animal eats a raw lobster?" You pause. "Well, most, actually. But like, you get what I mean."

The lobster seizes up with fear once more, knowing that it's fate lies in the hands of a cruel chef. Though Branch is completely unmoved, Poppy pouts, biting her lip.

"Oh uh, haha, how are we gonna do that? Our fire is out, can't cook anything here!" She quickly douses the embers of your old campfire with a watering can, before just as quickly hiding it behind her back. _Weird_ , but okay. You shrug.

"Oh, it's all good, you don't cook a Rock Lobster with a fire,” you say with a grin, “You boil them in the flames of Rock!" 

Raising it to your mouth, you hold the lobster like a microphone as it pantomimes another plea for mercy. It falls on deaf eyes. Steadily, you raise your voice, louder and louder, raising to a shrill _"YEAH!"_ that would move any dad rock band to tears. The lobster tries to cover it's ears in vain as you hit the peak of your cry, your true colors flashing ever so briefly. 

With a pop, steam rises from your perfectly cooked meal. You hold it up to them, eyebrows raised.

_"Bone ape the tit."_

The two stare in horror as you take a bite out of it's head- eyes, shell, and all.

 _"What?”_ You spit, mouth full, “These things are a huge pest, they burrow underneath buildings and make them collapse."

Branch clears his throat.

"That.... Didn't make any evolutionary sense. At all."

You give him a snaggle toothed smile, offering a bite of your evolutionary failure.

* * *

The three of you sit around the soggy fire pit, tucking into a bit of free-range lobster. You rub your knuckles, which are still a bit sore from punching through stone, despite how flimsy it had been. Punching rocks, it turns out, hurts no matter how you slice it. Go figure. Looking up, you spot Poppy sprinkling a packet of sugar on her chunk before building up the courage to take a bite. What a way to ruin a perfectly good meal. When this is all over, you're _definitely_ going to have to expand her palate.

Huffing at the thought, you pry your eyes away to look at your feet, cheek resting against your fist. _Like she's gonna stick around once everything’s all gravy._ You're riding off the coattails of her helping-people complex for sure. Then again, you're probably gonna fuck this all up so she leaves _well_ before then. Thinking back on your dream (and, of course, everything else) maybe that's for the best.

Thankfully, your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by the distant sound of fluttering wings. The three of you share an uneasy look before climbing up the rocky ridge to get a peek of what ill tidings your way comes. Branch pulls out a pair of binoculars, surveying the potential danger.

"It's just one troll," he mutters, mouth drawn into a thin line, "I think we can take him."

"Take him _where?"_ Poppy whispers back, confused. "Oh, do you think it's someone coming to join our cause?"

Branch pauses before shaking his head. " _What?_ No, this group is complicated enough. I meant, take him _down."_

You snatch the binoculars, soliciting a disgruntled _"Hey!"_ from stick in the mud. Looking down the sights, you crack a nervous smile. More of a nervous smirk, really.

"Nah, it's just Riff! I told you that Debbie was gonna pull through for us."

"And Riff too!" Poppy adds.

"Yeah, I guess..." Despite yourself, you still feel a twinge of bitterness towards your former assistant. Though you know he was absolutely in the right, it doesn't stop you from feeling like your trust was dented.

You clamber down the boulder to greet him, waving as he gets closer so he can spot you. Debbie follows close behind, flapping her tired wings with all her might. 

He could have at _least_ let her ride shotgun. 

The closer Riff gets, the more you can see the tight frown on his face. A scowl, maybe, if you could see his eyes. He lands the critter bike with a soft _wuff_ , scattering loose lava pebbles across the ground. There's a slow, reluctant trot up to meet him, that you spend looking firmly at the ground.

"Hey there, Riff... Buddy..." You make half hearted finger guns at him.

"Hey Barb," comes the stiff reply.

No 'your rockness'? God, he must've taken it harder than you. You rub the back of your head, trying to find the right words to say. "Thanks for uh, bringing me my bike dude. It's a huge help."

He slides off of it limply, hands in his pockets. 

"Yeah, don't mention it," he sighs, kicking a pebble. It clatters loudly across the ground. "I should probably like, _go,_ right?"

"Uh, I mean, I guess?" You look back to Poppy, who is gesturing you on. Tugging your collar, you swallow down your pride as Riff begins to turn away. "Or, no. Listen, Riff..."

He looks up at you, the bottoms of his eyes just barely visible. It's too much for you to make eye-ish contact with him right now, and you look away.

"I'm sorry, alright? I fucked up-" you can hear the other two groan behind you. Still not fans of your word choice, you assume. "And I should’ve listened to you, you were right, and I was a big poopy shithead. Can you forgive me?"

There’s a hesitance that hangs between you, your fingers twisting into the hem of your tank top.  
  
“Look, man. I’m just…” You sigh, heavily, and look bad up at him. It’s hard to tell what he’s feeling, standing there stone stark like that. “I called you out here because me and Queen Poppy are going to go and make things right. And… hopefully fix all of this. Take responsibility, you know?” 

There’s another pause. Then, finally, his face splits into a big toothy grin.

"Oh, I dunno... You might just be too big of a... What was it? A big poopy shithead?"

You let out the breath you’d been holding with a raspy chuckle. "Okay, listen man, I’m still really bad at this."  
  
He laughs too, voice cracking just a little with the effort, and raises a fist towards you. You connect your own with it, grinning from ear to ear. It felt… _good,_ to apologize. Maybe a bit too mushy. But when you look back at Poppy, and the beaming smile she’s giving you, you know that the bit of mush is worth it.

While Branch and Poppy pack up their things, the two of you work to get everything in order; going over the extra little supplies he packed for you, checking the gas, all that good stuff. The guy is like, a _damn_ good assistant.

"I swear Riff,” you say, leaning against the critter, “After this, you're gonna get so much credit you’ll be _running_ that fucking college."

"Barb... I don't think you understand how college works."

You puff out your chest, hands on your hips. "I'm the Queen, I'll just make it work like that! … But, uh. Speaking of which."

Turning away from him for a moment, you help your crew up onto the back of your bike.

"Riff, I'm going to need you to hold down the fort here, alright? Those trolls up there are gonna need someone with their head on straight to keep them in line while I'm away fixing everything, again, and you're the only one with two brain cells to rub together." You extend him your hand, and when he takes it, you pull him in for a quick hug. Not the lame pop kind, but the cool kind, the one that Rockers do to show respect. "I'm counting on you man, you got this?"

He smiles and nods his head. "Of course, your Rockness... I always knew you'd come around."

"Yeah yeah, whatever, you sappy piece of crap," You sniff, with an exaggerated roll of the eyes. Still… You can't help but smile back. "You really gotta stop hanging out with those Alt-Rock trolls." 

Mounting your critterbike, you give him and Debbie a wave goodbye. "Oh, and carry her home, will ya? She looks like she's gonna keel over, the poor baby..."

He shoots you a thumbs up, and with that, you and the Poppy Crew speed off towards apology city, population: you.

* * *

You always feel at home with the wind whipping through your hair. The Angler Buses are fine, but nothing can quite compare to the feeling of exhilaration you get from being on your bike, speeding along the boundless, barren plains of rock and glass. The grip on your waist is tight, but by the wooing and hooing of the one behind you, it's not out of fear- it's excitement, it's cold hard _adrenaline_. You could stay like this forever, forget about making amends and putting things right. 

Just you and your bike, and maybe Poppy too.

"Can we _PLEASE_ slow down?!"

Oh yeah, _he's_ here too. 

"Alright, alright, calm down, nature boy," You huff, kicking your critter down a few gears and bringing the flight to more of a crawl. "It's just been a while since I got to burn some rubber."

Branch releases his death clutch on the Pop Queen, letting a rattling breath of relief out.

Poppy follows suit, releasing your waist now that life and limb aren't in danger. She pulls out her scrapbook map, and you mentally prepare yourself for something deeply troubling, as is the style when she pulls out that fucking thing.

"So where to first, gang?" She seems excited, looking between the two of you. "Symphonyville is closest..."

Remembering those weird little baby men makes you wrinkle your nose. You might save that one for later. Or, preferably, last. "Nah, next."

"Okay, how about the Techno Trolls? They're close too, and they seem pretty nice to boot!"

Appealing, but last time you had the angler bus to help you avoid drowning.

"You got a submarine in that hair?" You watch her almost start reaching into her ponytail before picking up the snark in your voice. 

"Well... Where do _you_ want to start?" She asks. "You can take the reins, captain."

Before you can give your two cents, Branch speaks up.

"Wait, why don't we start with Pop Village? We can grab supplies, and help our friends."

"Oof, I dunno Branch..." Poppy grimaces. Quickly, she flips back to the page of the trolls wailing on you, and pulls a new tab to reveal Smidge with some absolutely _massive_ muscles snapping you like a twig. Jeeze, Poppy can be, like, _uncomfortably_ violent with this scrapbooking thing. Branch's ears fall slightly.

"Oh, right... Better steer clear then."

You look forward, keeping your bike doing wide loops. Then, when a direction is picked, you stop- pointing to what you're sure is north-westernish. 

"Let's start with the country trolls," you state, matter-of-factly. Looking back at the other two, though, they don't seem to like the idea.

"Are you... Sure?" Poppy frowned, scratching the back of her head. "They're not exactly the uh... What I mean is, they can be a bit..."

"A man literally died during a musical number and they didn't even flinch," interrupted Branch, flatly. 

They're talking like that's not just a normal thing that happens… Maybe you should step up the OSHA compliance back home.

"Well yeah," You shrug, "Get the hardest one out of the way first, then it'll be easy street the whole rest of the way."

They seem to get that, despite maybe not agreeing with your sink or swim deep-end mentality here. Poppy, after checking the map, pops right back from concern to joy.

" _Oh!_ The quickest route there will take us right through the Forest of Sir Tandeth!"

"... Why are you so excited about Certain Death?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at her.

Giggling, she puts a hand on her hip. "Oh no, Certain Death was a bad guy that I beat up, Sir Tandeth is my friend!"

Now you're confused. "You literally just said 'Certain Death' twice, _what_ are you talking about?"

Poppy just shakes her head with an understanding smile. " _Now_ I get what he was saying about how annoying that can be. Here, let's just stop when we head that way so you can meet him!"

While you're not exactly excited about meeting with Certain Death (whether or not its the status of something being certain death or just, like, a guy hard enough to be named that,) Poppy seems pretty assured that it'll be a good thing, so you guess you can drop in. The way you figure, if her goal was to get you put in the ground, she could have just handed you over to the yellow menace back Keepside.

"Alright," you sigh, revving up the reins again, "Death it is, then."

Your course set, you point your bike towards the fringes of Pop territory, and head off.

* * *

It's a few hours before you finally kick down the legs of your bike again, which gladly takes the rest. The poor thing has been running all day, and she must be tired. You leave her a nice bowl of gas to fill up on.

"There ya go girl, we'll just be a minute, okay?" You give her a pat on the head while she drinks up. 

As the other two slide off her back, you stretch, taking stock of the surroundings. Everything is dark and grey here, too- the colorful flora of the Pop Territories now crumpled and wilting, the air quiet. It’s almost a bit eerie. 

"So where's this _Death_ guy?" You ask, turning to Poppy with a hand on your hips.

She points to the top of the cliff before you. "Right up there! Just a quick hop skip and jump!"

Branch and Poppy effortlessly use their hair to swing to the top, leaving you on the ground floor below. Man, you really wish you could do all these insanely useful hair tricks. Whenever you try to stretch your hair, you just pop a blood vessel. It’s not long before Poppy seems to notice your lack of ascension.

"You okay down there, Barb?"

"Yeah, just. Just _give_ me a second,” Grunting, you move to dig a foothold into the rock. “Not everyone has magic hair."

You don’t get far trying to climb the cliff wall before a lock of gray hair grabs you by the pants. 

"Woah there, I snagged myself a biggun!” You can hear Poppy making reeling noises while she pulls you up. “Quick Branch, snap a picture, I _gotta_ share this with the fishermen."

"I dunno Poppy, you might wanna throw this one back,” he says, trying hard not to chuckle. Disregarding him, she pulls her own camera out and quickly snaps a picture of herself, with you hanging by the shorts like a jackass. Indignant, you unhook yourself and fall flat on the ground.

"Wow, they're gonna love this one,” teased Poppy, “They might finally give me one of those funny hats.” She extends a hand your way, which you begrudgingly take.

"It better be a good one,” you grumble, as she helps you up to your feet.

"Oh it is, it says ' _Women want to be my friend, Fish know I’m their End_.’ It’s really small text."

Well, as long as your humiliation is for a good cause.

Before she can own you any further, an ominous rumbling emanates from the mouth of the cave before you. Small bits of dirt and stone rattle free, and to your horror, something begins to rise from the dust. Pieces of gleaming metal snap into place into an imposing suit of armor that towers above the three of you. The goliath lifts its blade, twice your size and twice as wide, above its horned helm. You get in front of Poppy instinctively, you suppose subconsciously hoping that he'll take so long pulling the sword out of your ribcage that she’ll have enough time to get away. Good fucking plan, autonomic Barb!

There’s a wince as the blade does fall, but not as a death blow. It is buried into the stone cliff, the armor taking a knee. A voice rumbles through it, loud and boisterous and echoing.

"Ah, my lady, it does this helm well to see you again. To what do I owe the honor?"

Poppy steps around you easily.

"You may rise, Sir Goober." She says, in a faux regal tone. The knight rises, digging his feet back into the ground and standing to his full height. "We were just passing through, and I thought we should stop and say hi!"

"Ah, as magnanimous as ever!” The armor booms with a bow. “Your kindness humbles me, my lady. I see you have brought with you the lecherous one! I am pleased that he too has sworn fealty. My apologies... _Archer_ , was it?"

He's clearly addressing you, but you don't know this... Guy? Thing? Monster? You dont know this dude at all, or have _ever_ gone by the name Archer.

"Who?"

Poppy quickly shakes her head, clapping you on the shoulder. "Oh, no, Tandeth, this isn't Archer. This is Queen Barb!"

The knight is taken aback in horror. "My word, a thousand pardons my lady, I mistook you for another! Though..." He scratches at where the chin of someone who wasn't a hollow suit of armor would be. "The resemblance is striking... No matter, it is a pleasure to meet you, Queen Barb, and my congratulations on the engagement!"

_E-engagement?_

"W-woah, hey uh... We're not- I'm not... Uh...."

Poppy isn't nearly as flustered as you, and just giggles. "What did I tell you about making assumptions?"

"It makes a noble knight not but a donkey's end..." Tandeth moans, hanging his head low in shame.

"Aaaaaaand?"

He tilts his head upward and brings his hand to his chin area. "Ummm... And sometimes directly leads to avoidable death?"

" _Bingo,_ ” Poppy confirms, snapping her fingers. “Barb is actually the Queen of the Rock trolls, not my betrothed."

The knight looks to her with what you assume is curiosity. "Rock trolls...? I believed there to be only a singular kind of your people... Ah, another foolish assumption, Isee. Tandeth, when will you learn?"

Poppy shakes her head. "Nah it's okay, I didn't know either, until a few.... Months ago? Theres a whole wide world of different trolls and different kingdoms!"

Tandeths demeanor quickly changes, as he claps his hands with enough force to rattle the cave. "Ah, but this is joyous news! More kingdoms mean more potential patrons!"

"Potential patrons?” Bouncing in place, Poppy suddenly hits maximum excitement herself. “You don't mean.... You finally did it?!"

"I did indeed!"

"Oh you have _got_ to show us!" She squeals, giving his leg a big hug.

"Of course, my lady, I would never turn you away,” he beams with pride. Beginning to turn, it’s then that he finally notices Branch, heading up the rear. “Oh, my apologies, I did not see you back there. If I may hazard another assumption, I take it you are the jester?"

Poppy unlatches from his leg. "Wrong again, he's-"

"Actually yes, I am!" He interrupts, stepping forward. Poppy looks back at him, a silent plea written on her face.

"Ah, delightful! Before my own kingdom fell, we too indulged in the buffoonery of the sad clown. Come along, you may regale us with a jape as we make way."

As the four of you head into the cave, a powerful fear creeps up your spine. It's going to be the fucking tree joke again, isn't it.

Branch clears his throat.

"... Did you hear about the tree-"

_God damnit._

"- that got in trouble?"

 _"Ohoho!"_ Sir Tandeth bursts into a boisterous laughter, nearly keeling over. Blubbering, he wipes an imaginary tear from his imaginary eye. "A _tree_ , in _trouble_? A tree can no more commit mischief than the sun can refuse to shine!"

Quit while you're ahead Branch. _Please_ , just quit while you're ahead.

"It was being knotty!" 

He never learns. There is dead silence, and the joke falls into a fucking pit.

"Aha hah... Yes, quite," Chuckles Tandeth, half-heartedly. Kneeling down, he places a hand beside the opening of his helm and whisper-shouts to Poppy, "I believe your buffoon might be defective..."

She puts a hand over her mouth to hold in a full-on snort. Branch just crosses his arms and pouts.You guess it's just a universal thing that everyone dunks on this dude. You feel kind of bad… _Buuuuuut,_ it _is_ pretty funny.

While the pop trolls lag behind, you step up the pace to keep up with Tandeth's long, clunking stride. 

"So how do you and Popsqueak know each other? I wouldn't have taken..." You look back at Poppy, who seems to be enraptured by a passing butterfly. "... _her_... for the type that'd keep a metal ass knight on retainer."

Sir Tandeth looks down on you. Well, you suppose anytime he looks at you it's down, since the dude is massive. "Oh, is it self censorship day already? Although, it seems your beeper might not be functioning… Regardless, quite some time ago, lady Poppy bested my cruel brother Certain Death in mortal conflict. As thanks, I provided payment the only way I could, with my honor and my sword. Actually, it was his fall that paved the path to my dream."

"Oh yeah, what happened to ol' Death anyway?" Asks Poppy, skipping up to keep pace with the two of you.

The knight chuckles. "Oh, the shame of his defeat broke his spirit's hold on stone. Doubtless he is burning in the pit of fire as we speak."

_"Oh."_

"Do not cry for the vile, lest you drown by days end. Regardless, he was a horse's behind."

You look at Poppy with surprise, but she doesn't seem too moved by the news. _Damn, Princess has a body count._

"Ah, and here we are." 

The knight stops before a pair of great iron doors. A sign hangs above it, very crudely made, which reads _'DEN OF SIR TANDETH.'_ Oh, you get it, his name Sir Tandeth, not _Certain Death._ That's fucking stupid. Looking at the guy and his whole knight shtick, you're going to guess it's going to be _some_ kind of bloodsport behind here. Maybe an arena? That'd be pretty dope. 

"Welcome, my friends," He booms, placing a gauntlet against the door, "to the _Den of Sir Tandeth!"_

He pushes the door open, and the sudden outpouring of light after walking through a dim cave stings enough that you have to cover your eyes.

When your eyes adjust, you lower your hand to see... A uh. A _coffee shop?_

Poppy claps her hands to her cheeks and squeals once more in joy. She squeals maybe a little _too_ much for one 5 minute period, and keels over in a coughing fit. 

"Wow, it looks amazing! Do you have... Oh my Trolly yes, you do!!" She runs past you all and scoops up a cat into her arms. There's actually like, a _lot_ of cats now that you look.

"It's a... Cat cafe?" You ask, making eye contact with Branch, who only shrugs. He must be used to it. 

Tandeth nods his helm, jovial.

"Indeed. You are awestruck, I take? It is quite alright, stewardship of a cat café is knighthoods highest calling after all!"

* * *

Sir Tandeth leads you to a table in the back, before excusing himself to cater the other patrons. They're mostly just wildlife, and by cater you mostly mean trying to stop them from eating the cats. But their money is good, atleast.

"My apologies for that. The patrons here can be a... Rowdy bunch." Settling down into the booth with you all, he nearly crumples the wood beneath him. He sighs, pauldrons slouching. "In truth, I was hoping for a clientele consisting of your kingdom, my lady. I even distributed fliers by carrier pigeon-"

Branch shivers.

"- but alas, I have not seen hide nor, and pardon the pun, _hair_ of a troll in months."

He hands Poppy a cup of tea, which she gratefully sips from. Once she has her fill she sets it aside, only for a cat to start lapping from it while she's not looking. You hope that's not, like, bad for its kidneys.

"Well, there _has_ been a little bit of trouble in Trolladise lately. I mean, just look at us, right?"

At her word, he examines the three of you closely.

"Oh, ah, I see. I had thought mine eyes had begun to fail me. This... Malaise of your color palette is not ideal, I take it?"

"It's just like old times," reminisces Branch, leaning back in the booth. "Which were terrible, so no, not ideal."

"We're actually on the road to fix it. And also troll peace? We're still spitballing on that second one," continues Poppy.

Sir Tandeth plants his sword into the floorboards and kneels, before realizing that he's probably going to have to pay for that. He pulls it out of the slice he just put in, and rests the tip against the floor instead. 

" _Point me toward your enemy, my lady, and I shall carve in blood the path to your peace, this I solemnly swear._ "

Poppy laughs nervously, gesturing for him to stand. "No uh, I think we're good actually! No blood carving necessary."

Tandeth dejectedly sheaths his sword. You're not sure if that's a verb you can do in relation to a sword, but he does it nonetheless. "Ah, I see. There is no place for a knight in your world. No no, I understand, the days of honor are long passed."

"No, it's not that!" Poppy quickly interjects, waving both hands in front of her. "Just, uh.... Well, we need someone to help fund the mission, right?"

Tandeth looks up, a hopeful glimmer in his helmet as Poppy places a hand on his pauldron.

"Sir Tandeth, can I count on you and your business to support the cause?"

"AH! A tithe!" He slams his fist into his hand. "Yes, of course! My queen, I swear it on my honor that this establishment will not disappoint you."

With a spring in his step, he rushes off to deliver excellent customer service, that he might be tipped a Queen's Ransom.

"I would've liked a coffee..." You mumble under your breath. Before you can even blink, a cup is placed in front of you. You guess you'll toss him a tip.

With your cup empty and Tandeth's tip jar full, The three of you wave goodbye to the iron giant as you mount up on your bike, its belly full of petrol and raring to go. Greenery flies by in a blur, with nothing but the rushing wind and Poppy's excitement to fill the air. 

Actually, you could use some tunes right now. You turn on the Radio.

_"Welcome back to 115.7 FM 'The Rock', your 24 hour destination for Rock Sensations,"_ crackles the apparatus in your critterbike. _"Unfortunately, music is dead and we're living in the corpse it left behind, so next up, for the 12th consecutive time in a row, is the new hit 'Radio Static' by 'The Dead Air'."_

Nothing but static plays through the speakers. You sigh and turn it back off. It's not like they ever play anything good anyway.

* * *

You sit at the edge of your quick camp, up on the crest of the miniature river valley you all decided to settle down in for the night. Lonesome flats can't be more than half an hour's travel away at this point, though it's hard to tell without the light of day. You scooch over as you hear some rocks knock loose, making room for the watchman watcher.

"Need any help there, Poptart?"

"I'm all good," She cheerily replies, pulling herself up beside you and flopping down on the ridge. "Wow... Pretty night tonight, huh?"

You look up at the sky. It is real clear out here, more so than by volcano rock. The skys the skys the sky though, so whatever. Putting your head in your hands, you watch her from the corner of your eye. "If you start talking about stars again, I'm gonna shit myself."

She makes a disgusted face.

"It's a figure of speech," you huff.

"It's a nasty one."

"Yeah, well, I'm nasty."

 _Wow you sound really cool,_ You think to yourself with a glare, _'I'm nasty and poop my pants.' Good one Barb. Slam fucking dunk._

"Aw, you're not so bad," Poppy recants with a smile and a nudge against your arm, "I saw how you tried to protect me from Tandeth."

You can feel your face heat up at her calling you out, so you look away. " _What?_ I just knew that I could take him is all, it's not about you."

She just laughs. "Oh, I'm sure that's _exaaaaactly_ it. I just thought it was sweet, is all!"

"Yeah, well, it wasn't. He could've gutted you for all I care."

Woah, really coming off a bit harsh here Barb, maybe dial it back. Poppy, however, doesn't seem at all put off by it.

"D'aw, you're just a big softie aren't you?" She puts a hand on your shoulder again, looking at you with those soft eyes, and you swear you're in Hell.

"No, I'm hard as shit."

 _Another real cool one there, chief._ She giggles, clearly agreeing on how cool a thing to say that is. Then, her face scrunches up into what is _definitely_ one of the top ten most smug looks you've ever seen.

"You care about me, don'tcha?" She asks. It feels like your heart's going to explode.

"I really don't."

"Then why's your face so pink?"

Okay, that's _enough_ of this. You swat her hand away, and feel yourself turn on her with frankly _way_ too much anger- but it's already bubbling out of you, too fast to stop it.

"I dont give a shit about you, okay! Holy shit, can you please just leave me alone, you're so _annoying!"_ You jerk away backwards, trying to distance yourself, "And stop touching me, you can't just touch someone without asking, you _freak!"_

The heat in your face goes ice cold as her smile drops, and you realize, very quickly, that you went _way_ too far. Poppy looks away from you for a long moment, and you're certain she's about to head back to Branch and the two of them are going to have a sit-in about how much you suck.

"I'm sorry," she says, finally. It's soft and low and careful. "I'm going too hard too fast. Can I...?"

She holds out an arm, and you're honestly surprised- you thought she would've stormed off, either angry or _really_ bummed out. But she doesn't. Breathing hard, you tuck your knees into your arms, and nod your head. Gently, she puts an arm around you.

"You're new to this kinda thing, aren't you?" she asks. _You're so fucking pathetic._ You just nod your head again. "Hey, it's okay! We all start somewhere, right?"

"Poppy I'm s-" you start, but she just shushes you before you can get the words out.

"No, it's okay! I should've asked what you were comfortable with, and that's my fault. I forget sometimes that you're not just another Troll like the ones I'm used to." Despite yourself, you lean into her arm, just a little. You see her soft, warm smile return, and you're glad to see it.

"You know," Poppy says, "this kinda thing happens to me a lot, now that I think about it. Hmmm... Maybe I'm just too friendly?"

"Fuck, at least you're humble about it."

The two of you share a light laugh before falling into a welcome silence, the sky twinkling above, the sand blowing below. 

"...If I start talking about stars again, you're not going to literally... _you know,_ your pants… right?"

"No promises."

  
  
  



	5. Back on the Chain Gang

You lie awake, the sun above burning a hole through your closed eyes. You've been awake for a while now, but unconsciousness is the perfect cover for _Snooping._

"Poppy, listen... I think we need to talk."

Ears flick at the sound of Branch's voice, and you hear something sizzling in a pan. Are they making eggs? You could really go for some breakfast… Suppressing your growling stomach, you strain to hear Poppy's voice.

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

"I think we need to talk about…" there's a pause, and a huff. "About us."

"Oh, well sure! I mean, we _are_ pretty great. Not to jinx it, but I think we're going to absolutely _crush it_ at this troll peace thing!"

You hear a hand lightly slap against face in what you assume is exasperation.

"No, I mean 'us' as in you and me. The two of us."

_Oh, this is getting juicy._ Are they going to have a fight? Maybe he'll get so mad he'll go home. _A rocker can dream..._

"Listen, you know I care about you, more than anything in the world."

"Aww, I care about you too, Branch!"

Okay, so not a fight...

"But I don't think you're really hearing what I'm trying to tell you. So, I'm going to just come out and say it. Poppy, I-"

Yeah, you're gonna just slide in and interrupt this; whatever _this_ is. You cough loudly and make a show of stretching as you sit up out of bed- er, bag. "Morning, what're you two up to?"

Branch squints his eyes at you, obviously suspicious of how much of that you might have heard. Poppy, however, greets you enthusiastically from her spot on the ground.

"Oh, nothing! Me and Branch were just talking about how great we're going to be at saving country music. Isn't that right, Branch?"

Branch breaks eye contact and sighs. "Yeah, that's exactly it."

Poppy beams a smile at you, but Branch, not so much. Staying quiet, he pokes at his pan, the contents sizzling and popping. From here you can barely tell what it's supposed to be- but it's greenish and already puts you off. 

"What _is_ that?" You ask, wrinkling your nose. 

"Breakfast!" the Pop Queen replies before Branch can, already getting plates ready. "You want some?" 

"...Sure?" 

Setting the pan to rest, Branch quickly scoops out his own helping and stands up. "I'm gonna take mine to go; I want to see what the situation is like over the hill." 

Poppy nods an affirmative. "Sure thing, captain! We'll be good down here." 

Branch gives her an appreciative smile, before making his way up the valley wall. Poppy slides you your own plate, topped with something that _looks_ vaguely like it could be an omelette. You've never seen green eggs, though. But, the smell is appetizing, at least- and she quickly begins scarfing down her own food, leaving you to stare at it.

"Just try a bite!" She mumbles eventually, mouth full. "Don't worry, Branch is a pretty good cook." 

Swallowing your apprehension, you take a fork and bite into the stuff. Your fears are quickly vindicated. Immediately you're hit with the taste of- _something,_ vegatative and a vaguely sweet, and it makes you gag. "T-This isn't eggs!"

"Well yeah, duh?" Poppy laughs, "Why would you eat eggs? That's kind of gross." You don't have the stomach for a snarky response, forcing down what's in your mouth despite the texture driving you mad. 

The rest of the time is spent in a 'comfortable' silence. 

You pick at the vegan disaster on your plate, really making a show of how nasty you think it is. It's _fine_ that they avoid meat when they can, but eggs are barely even meat; it wouldn't kill them to cook something that didn't taste like fucking grass. Eventually, you decide you rather go hungry, and set your plate aside.

"So, what's the play here?"

Branch slides down from the top of the valley, and puts his binoculars back in his hair. "Well, it looks like most of the country trolls have made it back home. I don't see Delta, but that might be a good thing."

"Hmmm…" Poppy puts a hand to her chin. "I say we just be direct and go talk to them." You aren't too sure about that one. Those four hooves of theirs have you worried. They could do a _lot_ of damage to a skull. 

"How about… We set the saloon on fire, and then run in to put it out? We'd be heroes, and then they'd _have_ to forgive me,” you say, arms crossed in self assurance. Poppy gives you a horrified look, clearly not a fan.

"...Barb that's a terrible idea! I don't even think eleven minutes would be enough time to teach you a lesson about why that's such a terrible idea." Weirdly specific amount of time, but okay. "No, these country trolls appreciate honesty and straightforwardness."

Branch doesn't seem convinced. He must see the value of your gambit. "How do you know that? We were only in town for five minutes, four of which were spent in jail!" 

_Oh, so that wasn't a joke when they mentioned being thrown in jail._

"Well yes, but the fact that they have a jail means they value being honest!"

"I think it just means they value not being a criminal."

"Listen," You cut in, breaking up their discussion on Country morals, "I'm just saying, a _little bit_ of arson-"

They both turn to you with a solid _"No!"_

* * *

The town is certainly a lot less... On fire, than you remember it, which is a good thing. It looks like a tornado blew through it, sure, but there's a way less smoke and ash than last time. As the three of you walk down the main drag, those few trolls out and about look at you with contempt.

You lean down to whisper to Poppy. "Did I mention that I'm terrified of getting kicked by one of them?"

Quickly looking up and around, you try to tell whether or not they heard your admission of weakness. Is... Is that one polishing a horseshoe? Oh no.

"Aw, don't worry about it, Barbell,” assures Poppy, patting your back, "Soon enough those frowns are gonna be upside down!"

 _Barbell?_ Is she doing your nickname thing? You sigh, and nod your head. "If you say so... But if this goes sideways, we still got plan B."

"Is plan B arson?"

"No." _Yes._

The three of you make it to the pavilion at the edge of the town. Despite Branch's recon, you _clearly_ see Delta standing tall and proud, talking to some washed out geezer. There's a moment where you think she doesn't see you- then she looks over your way, and momentary shock fades into intense anger. 

_Oh boy, you are not prepared for this._ You swallow thickly as she trots your way, piss and vinegar in each step.

"What in sam hell are _y'all_ doin' here?!" She sneers, hands on her hips. She's imposing, and her eyes bore into you, big and green and full of fire. The other towns folk are watching from the sidelines. Oh boy, uh, okay, where to start.

"We-"

Delta stomps her hoof, cutting you off. "You gotta lotta nerve showin' your face 'round here again. I don't care _what_ y'all are doin in my town, you and your lot oughta go on an' _git_ before things get ugly."

_...Well then, why'd you ask?_

"Not much town left to get out of..." Branch mumbles under his breath.

" _Excuse me?"_ Delta spins around to look directly at him with a scowl to piss your pants over, tail twitching. "You got somethin' to say, _little boy?"_

With a gulp, he sheepishly looks at his feet. "N-no ma'am."

You look over to Poppy uneasily, and she urges you forward. You sigh. Time to extend the old olive branch. "Listen, Delta-"

"That's _Ms. Dawn_ to you," she snorts. "And I thought I was pretty clear when I told you to get the Hell outta my town."

Well, fuck it, then. You huff and cross your arms, turning to walk away. "Whatever, let's go guys."

Poppy quickly puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you. "Uh, Barb, aren't we here for something?"

Ugh, of _course_ Poppy has to keep you from giving up at the first roadblock. 

" _Oh, right,"_ You huff again, louder this time, and turn back around to face Delta. "Ms. Dawn, I'm here to say sorry."

She snorts again, and you _swear_ you get some snot droplets in your face. "About which part? Takin' us all prisoner? Stealin' our music? Or how about puttin' our whole damn town to the torch?"

"We just want to help, give us a chance!" Poppy says, stepping forward. You nod your head in affirmation. 

A hand comes out of Delta's hair, and pinches her brow in frustration. Does everyone just have magic hair but you?

"Thank you, Clampers."

"No problem, Aunt Delta."

"Y'all wanna help? I oughta string you up in town square." She runs a hand through her hair with a thoughtful frown. It takes a lot of doing, there's a lot of hair to run through. "...But I'm short handed as it is, an' we could use the extra bodies. Alright, fine. Growly Pete, _cuff 'em."_

Before you can react, the three of you are suddenly sporting some new wristbands and anklets.

"What the hell?!"

Delta laughs at your anger, shaking her head. "After all you did, you think I'd just give you free reign of the town? What kinda horse's ass do ya take me for? You're gonna help alright, and you ain't stoppin 'til you done paid what you owe."

Branch holds up his cuff wrists in indignation. "Well what about _us_ , what did we do?"

"Oh don't think I forgot what you little felons did," She says pointing an accusatory finger at the both of them. "I can't even lock folks up anymore 'cause you cretins broke my jail!"

You look around her to see a sheriff leading a striped pajama clad prisoner to the county jail. He tosses him in and slams the door behind him. Then, with a loud creak, the door just falls over, and the prisoner runs right back out of the big hole in the wall. Delta looks back in time to see the criminal fade into the shadows.

"I hope y'all are happy, that troll steals candy from _babies_ ," She spits, looking at the three of you with absolute disgust. Really wish you would've gotten a warning about the whole felony thing, would have been a nice bit of information to have. After a moment of tense silence, Delta looks past your head, hands falling to her sides. "Sheriff Big-Iron, I gotta few _miscreants_ for you."

You see the Sheriff approach slowly, methodically. Like the long arm of justice, finally coming to grab you by the throat. 

_Really really slowly, like painfully slow._

"Get your ass over here already!" 

"Delta you know I got that Big Iron plate on my hip," he wheezes, "I can't move like I used to."

Eventually, once he finally makes it to her side, he eyes the three of you suspiciously. "These them?"

"Yeah," huffs Delta, rolling her eyes. "they're the only ones with cuffs, aren't they?"

"Are they? You know my eyes don't work like they used to..."

Delta grumbles a little, something incomprehensible, putting a hand to her head and turning away. "Just get 'em to work, and keep your eye on them. Your _good_ eye."

"Yes Ma'am!" He shouts, snaping into a salute as she trots away. Then he spins back to you, rotted old teeth bared in a smile. "Come along you reprobates, y'all got some work to do."

* * *

Your pickaxe comes down with a clank that rattles through your bones, splitting the rock clean in half. Wiping your brow, you lean against the tool for a moment of rest. While the heat of the countryside wasn't getting to you like it was your pop trolls in tow, the exhaustion certainly _was_. 

"People actually break rocks in jail?" You croak, swallowing the dryness in your throat. "I thought that was just a joke..."

Poppy groans as she lifts her pickaxe over her head. "I'm sure these rocks are, _huff,_ important for rebuilding, right?"

You have no idea how, when everything in that town is either made of wood or dirt. Unless they're switching to stone huts, on account of your arson spree.

"I dunno, it's… kinda peaceful?" Says Branch, easily crumbling a stone into bits. You look over at him, exasperated. Of _course_ he'd be into something as mind-numbing as making big rocks into tiny rocks. The sheriff trotts up to him, a scowl on his face.

"Now you best not be experiencin' catharsis, prisoner. Wouldn't want me to use the stick..." He slaps a metal rod into his open hand, and Branch gulps.

"Uh, I mean, _agh!_ This is so dull and awful?"

The sheriff nods his head, then takes a look over all of y'alls- fuck, you mean all of your work. "Alright, I reckon this is enough." He tosses you all a few burlap bags. "Get them pebbles bagged up."

The three of you work to do as you're told, and once you've collected a satisfactory amount of rocks, he leads you back towards town. After a long walk, he stops you at some kind of contraption, which seems wildly out of place in this Podunk town.

He slaps the side of the machine. "Alright now, load 'em up in this here chute."

You all pour your rocks into the machine, and after a few moments... It spits out bigger rocks. The three of you look at each other, all emotion drained from your faces.

"Alrighty now," says Big-Iron, tossing you your pickaxes, "get to minin'."

You fall to your knees, head held in your hands. If you weren't so punk rock (and also dehydrated) you could have cried. "Did you... Did you just make us break rocks for three hours... Just to put them back together...?"

"Eeyup."

You drop into the fetal position, and feel Poppy rest an understanding hand on your head. The hot dirt is no comfort. 

"Poppy I want to go home."

"I know."

You hear a trotting behind you. With weary eyes you lift your dirt smudged head to see Delta Dawn fast approaching, looking none too pleased. Hopefully, she's here to stomp your head in.

"Big-Iron, I- have you had them out there breakin' rocks all day?!" She shouts, digging a hoof into the dirt. 

"Yes Ma'am, the lanky one's spirit already broke," He chuckles, puffing out his chest in pride.

Delta puts a hand against her face, gritting her teeth. "Sheriff, while I _do_ appreciate a Sisyphian task, you were _supposed_ to have them help fix up the town!"

The Sheriff looks down at his hooves. "So... No rocks?"

"Get their asses out there and doin' somethin' productive before I hit you upside the head with a rock!" Delta hollers back, and the Sheriff bucks backwards in surprise.

"A-alright you three! Come along now!" He gallops away towards town center, not even waiting for you to follow. Delta sighs as she looks up at her hair.

"I have really got to stop cussin' in front of the little one…" She looks back to you with an exasperated scowl, flinging her arm townward. "What're y'all still doin' here? You heard Sheriff, get goin'!"

* * *

You pound a nail into the wall, securing another board in place. Now _this_ is definitely more your speed; a job that isn't completely pointless. It's been tough, putting this shack back together, but you do feel a positive tingle in your hearteries, doing the right thing like this. Hopefully whatever four legged Troll calls this place home will appreciate the renovations. You take a step back to admire your motley crew's handiwork with a little pride.

"Looking pretty good, eh?" You say, glancing at the others. Poppy gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up, while Branch puts his hands on his hips, an awkward little grin crinkling his eyes. 

"Yeah… you know, I was on the fence about this whole thing, but now I-" Before he can even finish his sentence, the whole building, save for the few boards you pounded in, collapses. His face falls. "... I think it's hopeless."

You don't know how much more of this your heart can take.

"It's okay!" Exclaims Poppy, somehow staying optimistic, "Come on, we can fix this in no time!" Digging into the rubble, she quickly grabs several tools and planks up in her hair. But, before she can set back to work, the sheriff blows his whistle.

" _Nuh uh,_ no ma'am, no fancy pants hair tricks, y'all gonna do this the hard way."

Poppy sighs and lets all the junk she's collected fall to the ground around her in a heap. 

Ambling behind her, Big-Iron scoops up a hammer, and scratches his chin. He trots up to you.

"Except for you, you're _only_ gonna use your hair." He jams the hammer into your mohawk. Your face pulls into a frown.

"Uh, I don't have hair powers, dude."

With an agitated snort he rests a hand against that iron stick on his hip. "I ain't got time to listen to your excuses, now get to work missy. All three of you, get back to work!"

He laughs to himself as you try to awkwardly swing your head to hammer a nail.

"Oh, _gotDAMN_ do I love being unreasonable."

It's hours of this before the sun begins to set and the three of you, finally, get a moment's rest in the remains of the county jail. 

"This absolutely blows," You grumble, trying to work a little twig underneath your wrist cuff, in an attempt to scratch an itch. "I thought we were just supposed to say sorry and move on?"

Poppy blows a strand of hair out of her face. She's sitting next to you on the single bench still remaining, bags under her eyes. "Well, I might have, just _maybe,_ underestimated how mad they'd be?"

"Oh imagine that, you made a plan with zero information," Branch scoffs, head in his hand. You want to point out that he messed up his recon earlier, but you decide against it. There’s a groan as Poppy bumps her skull against the wall.

"Branch, can we not do this again?"

"We are chained up in a prison cell, the same prison cell we already got locked up in!" He holds up his hands, which rattle the tough leathery chains. "When are you going to just admit you made a mistake?"

"Okay, so maybe this whole quest has hit a _few_ snags. But! We're here and we're helping, so it's only a matter of time before-"

Branch slams his hand on the bench, and she goes quiet. 

"We are _prisoners,_ Poppy, and I don't know if you've noticed, but this isn't a Fungeon! You don't make friends in the slammer!"

"Ugh." Her ears flatten against her head. "Well we're here now, so we might as well make the most of it."

Oh _boy_ , you wish you weren't chained at the ankles to this mess. 

"We wouldn't be here if you would just listen to me! Or _anyone_ , anyone else could have told you this was all a bad idea. Almost everyone else did!"

"Are you saying this is my fault?"

There is a pregnant pause, like the calm before a fan shitting. Maybe if you gnaw off your limbs, you can roll out of here and be literally anywhere else right now. Branch breaks his eye contact, letting out a deep, tired huff.

"Yes, actually. I am. I'm sorry, but if you had just listened to King Peppy, _none_ of this would have happened. Instead, you only listened to yourself."

It's an awkward silence. Poppy's face falls as she looks down at her knees, her hair slowly wrapping itself around her. You almost want to speak up, break through the tension… but then it stops, and a look of resolute determination crosses her face.

"You're right," she says, "this _is_ my fault."

You open your mouth to bust out an 'actually, it's _literally_ my fault', but she cuts you off before you can get out a single vowel.

"Which is why I have to fix it. I owe it to everyone to set things right. We can't just live isolated from everyone- even if we hid away, what about all the other Trolls, and their music? Pop messed everything up for everyone, so we gotta show them that there's nothing wrong with a butt wiggling beat!" She reaches out a hand, for Branch to take. There's a moment where he stares at her, eyes tired, before he just turns away and crosses his arms. In an instant, the determination fades from her face, and if she wasn't already gray, you feel like you'd see the color drain all over again.

"Branch..."

Gathering up your resolve, you take her hand instead. 

"I'm with ya, Popsqueak," You state, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looks at you in surprise, tears threatening to prick at the corners of her eyes. "Of course, if you're trying to make people think Pop is actual music, I think you might be a bit fucked."

The smallest smile creeps up on her face. 

* * *

You stir from sleep to the tune of a stampede. With a groan, you shift on the makeshift little cot. You thought country trolls worked on farmer hours… And what's that weight on your shoulder? You peak a crusty eye open, and solve the first mystery of the night. Poppy is getting drool all over your tank top. Gross. There's no effort to try and push her off- when you move she just nudges her fuzzy face back into your arm. Drowsily accepting your fate, you're just about to try to go back to sleep, when you notice another troll in your cell.

"Ugh... Wh..."

The equestrian troll puts a finger to his mouth, and quietly growls something at you. _Ah, right,_ Growly Pete. In response to the noise, Poppy and Branch both begin to stir.

"Huh... What's going on?" Asks Poppy, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Growly Pete waves you all over before peaking over the crumbled wall where a door once was. When you get closer, he looks back your way. "Growly growly growl. Growl _growl growly._ Growl."

Branch groans. "I'm going back to bed..."

You shush him, shaking your head. "He said... The bro-country bandits are raiding the town? And that if we care about music that means anything, we'll keep our mouths shut."

You get nothing but a quizzical look in response. Rolling your eyes, you look back over to Growly Pete. "I'm a rock troll, you gotta be able to translate grumbles."

They both nod their heads with an "Oh, that makes sense."

"Growly Growl!"

You clap a hand over your mouth, as per his request. Growly Pete raises his... His fingers? In a gun-esque manner, and peeks over the wall. Then there's a shout- and just as quickly, he flies backwards, as if struck by an unseen force. 

"Oh my cupcakes, he's been shot!" Cries out Poppy in horror.

 _"... What?"_ You ask, scratching the side of your head. 

The troll clutches at his chest, raising a hand towards the sky. With one last growl, he goes limp. 

"Quick," she continues, pulling you forward, "we gotta grab his guns!"

You look back and forth between her and the clearly still breathing Country Troll laying on the floor. Wrinkling your nose, you watch as Poppy rolls him over, not a single 'gun' in sight. "What are you _talking_ about? You sound insane."

"Just. Just roll with it, okay?" She responds, shaking her head slightly. "Some trolls take pretend more seriously than life, and if we're gonna help out 'round these parts, it's time to put our candy where our mouths are."

Well if playing make believe will help you get out of jail on good behavior, you guess you're game. You uh, you grab the very much 'dead' and 'not breathing' troll's 'firearm,' while Branch picks up his sidearm. There's a spin of the... You don't know, gun parts. You spin the do-hicky and put your magic fake-real bullets into it.

"What about you?" You ask, gesturing to Poppy, "Don't you need a ghost gun?"

She smiles and reaches into her hair, before pulling her fingers out in the customary configuration. "Oh, don't worry about me. I'm _always_ packing heat."

Stepping between you and careful not to trip up on the chains, Branch scoops up a strip of fabric, and ties it around his head like a bandana. 

"Alright, given the layout of the town, Delta Dawn and any true blooded country trolls are probably holed up in the saloon." For a split second, he looks around the corner- before yanking his head back. You hear someone yell bang, and try to emulate with their mouth the sound of something whizzing by overhead. Branch’s mouth draws into a tight, nervous line. "We don't stand a chance until we know what we're up against. If 5 months of guerilla glitterball boot camp has taught me anything, we gotta move low and quick."

"Guerilla Glitterball?" You tilt your head.

"Guy Diamond had his pride threatened,” Poppy whispers, leaning over to you.

You don't know who that is, but he sounds like a prick.

"I'll lay down suppressive fire,” Branch continues, “You two only shoot if you have to, we gotta conserve ammo."

"What about you?"

He jabs his thumb at the makeshift bandanna with a small, knowing smile. _"Infinite ammo."_

Okay, whatever. You guess anyone can just say anything when they're playing baby pretend. Poppy doesn't seem too happy about it, though.

"Aw man, that's _really_ gonna tank our rank at the end..."

After taking a moment for some reconnaissance, the three of you dart out of the jail, trying to keep low to the ground as you move from building to building. Leading the front, Branch yells out _Bang_ after _Bang,_ keeping the bandits off you. Most of the invaders are focused on trolls with an extra set of legs, so despite the rattling of your chains, you make it to the saloon relatively quickly. 

You barge through the little half door thing, and the three of you fall into a heap on the floor. Looking up from the ground, you see a gaggle of country boys and girls all pointing their fingers at you. It’s not exactly threatening, but boy does this many accusatory points spike your anxiety. Parting the crowd, though, trots Delta Dawn, and with her appearance the trolls around her lower their hands. 

"How in tarnation did y'all make it through all that?" She asks, looking you over in what you _almost_ want to call awe. 

Branch stands up, before hunching over to catch his breath. 

"Infinite... Huff... Ammo... My throat is so hoarse... No offense..." 

With a short bark of laughter, Delta Dawn nods her head. "None taken. I mistook y'all for a bunch of slack jawed reprobates, but if y'all are willin to sacrifice your rank like that..."

Okay you _almost_ want to ask what this rank thing is about, but it's probably more nonsense. It’s assuredly 100% nonsense, actually. After getting a hand up, Poppy dusts herself off and steps forward, as far as the chains that bind will allow her.

"What's going on? Why are those other country trolls attacking?"

"It's the God damn Bro-Country Bandits,” snaps Delta, spitting on the floor. Poppy sticks her tongue out. “They've been harassin’ us ever since we got back from that hole in the ground _skinny_ there calls a city. Which is to say... the last two or three nights?"

Between the whispered conversation, just loud enough to hear inside, you think you hear the twanging of a stringed instrument. The mayor holds her ears and grimaces, as you hear what sounds like a country tune drift on the breeze.

"Is that... Music?" Asks Poppy, ears perked up to listen. Delta just snorts.

"That ain't _music,_ that's some brain rottin’ garbage that those trolls have been playin’ non-stop. I swear if i gotta hear about Bo's pick-up worm one more time I’m gonna turn myself into glue.” There’s a glare directed out the window, before she puts her hands on her hips and sighs. "...Folks ‘round here _need_ music, and when it was clear we weren't able to strum so much as one string, lotta folks turned to that out there to fill the void. Now they're tryin’ to steal our livestock so we got no choice but to join up with ‘em."

The trolls around her glance at each other with worry and apprehension, gathering around in solidarity. With an assuring smirk, Delta pounds her fist into her hand. "But this time, we got a plan. We're just waitin’ on Growly Pete to get back, then we're gonna send these sonsabitches runnin’ back to the Troll Urban Outfitters from whence they came!”

There’s a beat of silence. The three of you wince in unison, hissing through your teeth.

"... They got him didn’t they?"

"He did a backflip on the way down," adds Branch. Leaning against the counter behind her, Delta's brow furrows as she looks at the three of you. 

"Alright. …I’m gonna be real honest with y'all, Growly was just about the only troll here worth a damn that had the guts to get things done. _Dennis_." She glares over at a troll to the side, who just shrugs. "So you wanted to help? Tell ya what: y'all get rid of these jokers, and I'll consider parole."

Finally, some progress.

"Well, we won't be much help with these,” You say, lifting up the leather chains to her. She just smiles, and- _Holy shit,_ she just bites through it.

"Them chains ain’t nothin but some ol’ beef jerky we had layin’ around. You can bite right through,” Delta chuckles, picking at her teeth.

A prisoner in the back of the saloon suddenly shoots to attention, grabbing his own chains and biting into them. You wince as every single one of his teeth shatters.

"Yours are real, Charlie." She shakes her head. "Like I said, Growly was the only one worth a damn."

As soon as y'all... You mean, you all, get your ‘chains’ squared away, you follow Delta over to a table that's been cleared out at the center of the room. The rest of the country trolls pile around you, pressing you all close, and you’re careful to not let your toes get trampled by any stray hooves. Delta’s front and center, chewing thoughtfully on a strand of hay in the corner of her mouth. Her hands flatten out a thick, starched map onto the wood, embroidered with the town’s layout. With a slight grin, she takes the hay and points it to the center, where the saloon is, and levels her eyes with yours.

"Okay, listen up, city slicker. Here's the plan.”


	6. My Silver Lining

After an hour of debriefing, the three of you break apart, the Mayor's plan fresh in your minds. Poppy sets to work on her arts and crafts project, Branch heads off towards a dung-based mission that he is _weirdly_ prepared for, and as for you? You and Delta are heading for the center of town.

"So what's the over under if this all goes off smoothly?" You ask, keeping your eyes peeled for any out of place country trolls. The perch on Delta's back is less than comfortable, more for ease of movement than anything, in case she has to make a break for it. You have to have a free hand dug into the collar of her shirt to keep from sliding off. 

"Oh this little venture is doomed," Delta snickers. "'Least I can make sure you stay on the straight n narrow 'afore you get gunned down like a dog."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence there, chief."

You pop a few shots at a well dressed country troll or two as you make it to the rally point. The trolls don't seem to notice you, thankfully, but they don't go down either. Delta's ears twitch in annoyance at the sight.

"Girl, ain't you ever been in a gunfight before? You gotta yell _bang_ iffin' you want it to count," She whispers, with an added mutter of _"fuckin' city slickers..."_ under her breath.

You grumble and roll your eyes, but yell bang with your next few shots, and this time get results. The trolls fall over in a theatrical fashion, feigning mortal injury, before going limp in the dirt. 

Darting past the bodies, you and Delta quickly move to a shed door off the main drag. Pulling it open, you're welcomed by a heavy piece of artillery. Or so you're told, because when she pulls off the sheet draped over it, It's just a cart with a pole on it. The rules of this game seem really arbitrary.

"Alright missy, I hope you got some muscle in those noodle arms of yers," Delta says, jostling the cart's handles at you. "We gotta get this rollin' before more of them bandits catch wind."

You grab hold of the harness straps that were clearly made for a troll with some sort of horse-like body. Tugging at it with all your might, it takes some effort to slowly get the old wooden wheels to roll.

"I could, _huff_ , use a little help with this!" You shout at her, watching you from the corner with her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, well, you're gonna _really_ need some help if you don't get the lead out."

The rough terrain of rocks and dirt are no mercy on your feet as you drag the thing out, and you nearly keel over when you finally get the cart into position. Branch and Poppy meet back up with you, seemingly bearing the marks of their own tribulations. Well Branch is, anyway, because the dude _reeks_. Poppy was just making art, and save for a few splotches of paint on her face she's not much worse for wear.

"Y'all got everything in place?" 

Branch nods. "You sure this is gonna work?"

Delta carefully examines Poppy's handiwork- a big, near realistic cardboard standee of a bright cherry red pickup grub- and cracks a smile.

" _Darn tootin'_ I'm sure it's gonna work! Iffin' I didn't know better, this here might've fooled me!" She gives Poppy a slap on the back, who, despite nearly being bowled over, beams with pride.

"What can I say, I'm good at what I do."

"That you are. I just hope your friend over there can say the same." She looks over at Branch, a tinge of doubt in her eyes. He shuffles under her gaze awkwardly, but Poppy quickly moves to swing an arm around him with a bright smile.

"Oh, don't you worry! Branch might be a bit of a sour puss sometimes, but there's no one else I'd rather go to for traps or dung. ...Not that I, well, ever would go to anyone for those things, but if I did, Branch would be my troll!" She gives him a good natured shake, and Branch breaks into a little grin of his own. Delta doesn't seem so convinced, but you reckon that _she_ reckons she doesn't have much choice but to believe in his shit-based prowess. 

Either way, she claps her hands together. "Alright, places people. We're only gonna have one shot at turnin' the tide, so let's give 'em _Hell_."

As the small smattering of trolls disperse, Branch heads off towards one of the buildings off to the side; a quaint little shack of some sort. Considering what's about to happen, you feel bad for the poor sucker that used to live there. You don't think he'll be in a hurry to move back in. Poppy, on the other hand, after double checking her handiwork on her plywood standee, shoots you a thumbs up and goes to follow Delta over to the sidelines. As for you, you hop up onto the back of the cart, and grab a bit of rope. 

It's time to earn some forgiveness.

* * *

"Hey Bo, you seein' what I'm seein'?"

On the horizon overlooking Lonesome Flats, a big, well-groomed country troll with a bit of thistle in his mouth and a brand deal from some kind of shit quality beer emblazoned onto the jean-jacket on his back, stands tall. There's a glance at the country troll beside him, before he pulls out a pair of binoculars and peers into the distance. A second later, he puts the binoculars away with a tight scowl.

"Gotdamnit, you know I'm near-sighted Bo-Jack, you gotdamn idiot."

"Er, right, sorry boss…" The leaner troll turns to his companion, nudging him with an elbow. "Bo-Ethan, you seein' that out there?"

"It's just Ethan, actually," he replies. The leader of the band of bandits snorts.

"Not if yer in this posse, boy. Now answer the damn question."

Bo-Ethan sighs, and turns his attention towards the center of town. It's tough to see through the dust in the air, but when it clears, his eyes widen in shock, unable to believe what he's seein'. "HOT DAMN! It's a cherry-red pickup grub, just sittin' there!"

"You're _shittin'_ me," shouts Bo, leaning forward to try and make out the shape, "just sittin' there?!"

"Yessir, just _waitin'_ for us to write another amazin' song about it!"

"Well _YEHAW!"_ Slapping his front leg, Bo jumps to attention, cantering around his eager gang. "Come on Bo-Boys, let's go get us some wheels!"

Kicking up dust behind them, Bo and his gang all begin to charge full speed towards the pickup, inane lyrics already forming on the tips of their tongue. But as they draw close, and the sight becomes more clear, Bo slows down, ever so slightly. Not slightly enough, though.

"What in tarnation…" His hooves struggle to find footing in the loose sand and dirt, flinging his arms outwards. "BOYS, WAIT!"

With a tug of the rope, and the cardboard standee falls over. Eyes wide and terrified, the bandits watch as you gently rest your arm on the pole in front of you, and pantomime grabbing a crank.

" _Yipikayay_."

You briefly look over to Delta, who gives you a nod of approval. A wicked grin tugs at the edge of your mouth as you begin to turn the invisible crank. Rapid fire, a stream of bangs leave your mouth, bumpkin after bumpkin falling to the dirt.

"SCATTER, BOYS!" Hollers Bo, tripping over his own legs to dodge invisible bullets.

The bandits turn tail and run for the edge of town, the signal for the trap to be sprung. There's a snap, and a tidal wave of manure washes out in front of them, cutting off their escape. From the rooftop, Branch shoots you a thumbs up, and you return the gesture.

"Oh _Lord_ ," you hear them cry, the trolls that hadn't stopped in time wading through the muck and shit, "My three thousand bit boots weren't made for actual rural scenarios!"

The country trolls put on the breaks, and make easy picking for your fire. Delta hoots and hollers from the sidelines, cheering you on as you mop up the entire gang one by one. All but the leader, smack dab in the middle of the body-ridden field. You aim your arm at him gradually, right for his head, fire never ceasing-

" _BANGBANGBANGBANGB_ … huh _?"_

You turn the crank, but Bo doesn't fall. He just tips his hat at you and smiles.

"Seems like you ran outta ammo, missy."

He raises his fingers right between your wide eyes, aim level and true, and yells out a single bang. There's no time for you to react, to move. You can almost see the not-real bullet as it makes its way to hammer the fake nail into your pretend grave. 

That is, until a gray blur leaps in front of you. 

Poppy crumples to the floor, clutching her chest where the bullet hits its mark. The country trolls on your side gasp in horror, and you trip over yourself to rush to her side. Kneeling down, you slide a hand beneath her to hold up her head.

"Poppy, _why_ did you do that?!"

She coughs weakly, peeking one little eye open to look at you. "Because... Because you're the only one who can save country..."

"No, really, _why_ did you do that? Your dress is filthy, and I'm pretty sure your knee is scraped-" Before you can finish, Poppy sloppily shoves a finger to your lips to shut you up. 

"Shhhh," She whispers, eyes sliding closed. "Let me have my moment. Barb, you gotta stop him... I believe in you... g-guh..."

And with that, she goes limp in your arms, tongue lolling out of her mouth. You reluctantly lay her head back to the dirt, awkwardly patting her on the head. You'll put a bullet in him. For Poppy.

"Well," says Bo, breaking the silence, "This is touchin' and all, but I still got like. Five bullets in here, so." You glare at him as he points his fingers at you again. There's a low chuckle, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Listen, it's nothin' personal, kid, but I got a date with a shiny new combine harvester. So unless you got some more buddies what want to jump in the way of my six shooter here, I reckon it's time we wrap this up."

"I challenge you to a duel," You blurt out.

"Excuse me?"

"A duel. You and me, six paces."

There's a pause, and Bo looks around, confused. "... Er, no? I can just. Shoot you right now. It'd be real easy."

You stand up straight, and watch his gun trace your head. "Well, if you're a coward..."

"Oh I am, I'm a _huge_ coward," he laughs, "But I'm a huge coward that's gonna walk away from this, unlike yerself."

Well that was the last card you had up your sleeve, guess you're fucked. You wince, preparing to fall to the floor.

"Wait, Bo." 

Both you and Bo turn your heads to see Delta trotting up to the two of you, her hands up. "Iffin' you duel her, and you win, we'll all go with you, every single one of us."

Suspicious, Bo lowers his fingers, just slightly. "What're you sayin' there, Ms. Dawn?"

She clenches her fists and grits her teeth, like she was sick at the words about to come from her mouth. "We'll all start playin... _Bro-country_..."

With another giddy chuckle Bo holsters his piece, a lopsided grin on his face. _"I_ like to call It Bo-Country. And I reckon you should get used to callin' yerself _Bo-Delta_. Or maybe Bo-Dawn." Lackadaisically he turns to you, flicking his trucker cap up to look you in the eyes. "Alright, skinny, you've got yerself a duel."

He spits in his hand, and extends it to you. 

"But if I put one between your eyes, you and your gang of jagoffs are gonna get your asses back to work," You snarl. Before he can retract his hand, you take it and give it a shake. Admittedly, you forgot for a second that it's covered in his spit- which is, frankly, really gross. You wipe your hand on your shirt, not breaking eye contact. 

"Alrighty, I reckon you've got yerself some terms." Hands on his hips, he shoots a look over at Delta. "And I hope _you_ like drinkin' exclusively name brand beers with their logos facin' out."

* * *

Sunrise breaks over the empty horizon as you stand back to... _Horse ass_... with Bo. The main drag is filled with onlookers, both true blooded country trolls and the worse for wear invaders, waiting with baited breath. A tumbleweed quietly blows past your feet in the hot wind.

"...You know, I reckon I should be thankin' you, skinny." Bo looks over his shoulder at you, a smirk on his face. "It mighta taken' me a week, maybe two, to convert all these folks. Now I got the whole gaggle after I pop you. But no hard feelin's, eh?"

"If you think I'm gonna get beat by a bumpkin with sequins on his boots..."

"And frankly, you did me a _big_ favor killin' Country. That garbage was gratin' on my ears. Too much _emotion_ , no mass appeal. I'm sure you get that, yer a rock troll after all. Y'alls music is all about pullin' in scratch too, nothin' worth sayin."

You clench your fists. 

"So how about you give me this one?" Continues Bo, voice lowering slightly. "O'course I'll trounce ya either way, but that ain't no fun. The easy way is the _new_ country way, so if you throw this little duel, I'll make sure Delta begs to give you forgiveness. Hell, I'll even throw in a new tractorbeetle for ya, we got those things comin' out our asses these days."

Slowly, you unclench your fists. He's making some points, you hate to admit. "... Alright, you got yourself a deal."

He turns his head away from you, a smile tugging at the edges of his features. "Thatta girl. No one appreciates a lil 'bout of skullduggery these days! Glad I came across my kin."

As a ray of sunlight shoots between the cracks in the buildings, you begin your march. Six paces, like any western worth its salt. You look down at your hip, pretend gun holstered in its pretend, well, holster. And a small smirk comes to your face.

"Alrighty y'all. Let's get this over with so everyone can get back to work." Delta pulls a cowbell out of her hair as the two of you turn to face each other. "At the sound of the bell, alright? And not a second before; I'm lookin at _you,_ Bo."

Your hand rests by your hip, ready to draw. As your eyes trail up to his, you give Bo a wink, reminding him that you're taking a dive. His stance is way more relaxed, as if he's trying to tell everyone about your unscrupulous deal.

Then the bell rings, and he lackadaisically raises his piece.

_"Bang!"_

Bo stares, dumbfounded, at the hand that he has to pretend was just disarmed. You blow the smoke off of your fingers, and grin back at him.

"But you-!"

"Oh, sorry dude. I lied. I do that sometimes, it's a real issue." Standing tall, you point your fingers back at him, and he puts his hands up.

"N-now look, y'all- y'all already won. So just put that thing down, alright?"

"Sure," you chuckle. You lower your gun to his belt, and yell out another _Bang_. 

Bo looks down at it, sweat beading on his brow. "Did... Did ya miss?"

"No, I totally got it."

"I don't wanna play anymore," he mutters, bottom lip quivering. 

You hear all the other Trolls booing and making threats around him as you smugly holster your piece. Eyes darting around, his face turns red, realizing he has no opening to run.

"Okay okay, fine!" Cries Bo. He hangs his head as he slowly takes off his fancy belt and lets his pants fall to his ankles, as if shot off. All the other trolls laugh at him and the sight of his heart-print horse boxers, and you feel a bit bad. Only a bit, though- you're still pointing and laughing. 

Delta, smirking behind a hand to her face, trots up to the humiliated hick. "Pull your damn pants up Bo. You got some work to get back to, don't ya?"

"Maybe I was just fibbin', too..." He pouts, crossing his arms. Before he can move, Delta grabs him by the ear.

"Now _what was that_ , young man?"

"Ow- _ow_ , I was just foolin, damn!"

Delta lets him go with a snicker, and he hikes up his trousers. Then, with hat in hand, he turns to the others as they pick themselves up off the streets.

"Alright fellas... I reckon we gotta go back to work.."

Bo-Ethan- no, just Ethan, walks up to him, the saddest expression on his mustached face. "But... But what about that shiny new combine harvester?"

Bo puts a hand on his back and sighs, deeply. "Let it go, brother."

He looks over his shoulder, glaring at you, as he and his crew go off to fetch their stolen supplies. 

"Well darn tootin'!" Delta hoots, before turning to you with a smile. "I didn't think y'all had a snowball's chance in Hell, but ya pulled through for us. That damned idiot, with his appreciation of an honest deal. Any country troll worth his salt knows that puttin' stock in another troll bein' straight with ya is a quick way to put yerself in the ground."

Back behind you, Branch helps Poppy to her feet and dusts her off, but not without an _"I told you so."_ Poppy just rolls her eyes and playfully waves him off.

"Listen Barbara, what y'all did was mighty nasty, and this whole mess is basically all on you..." _Noted_. "...But I gotta tip my hat to you, for helpin' us through it. Most folks woulda bailed at the jump. I thought you were full a shit before, but now..." With a big toothy grin, Delta extends a hand to you. "I reckon you really did learn your lesson. Apology accepted."

You reach out to shake it, and her solid grip almost breaks your hand. Still, you wince and bear it when she roughly jostles you around.

"Feel free to stay as long as you like," she says, warmly, nodding her head, " _Without_ the chains this time. I reckon y'all three could use a little shuteye."

* * *

You jolt up in bed, body in a cold sweat. It takes a moment to remember where you are. When you get your bearings, you rub the grit out of your eyes and run a hand through your hair. That damn meatball dream again… Honestly, what the hell? A piece of soggy meat is like, the _least_ lethal weapon you can think of. 

With a sigh, you decide you might as well get up for the day. You're not going to be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Hopefully this saloon doesn't serve ground beef, or else you might flip your shit. You pull on your old musty tank top before getting in that good morning stretch that lets you start the day with weird feeling limbs.

Following the soft sounds of conversation, you make your way down the stairs, leaning heavy on the banister. Down in the bar area proper, you see a lot of folks you gunned down the other night day drinking their sorrows away. A few of them see you, too, and give you a nasty glare before turning their attention back to the bottom of a bottle. 

"Hey there, Sheriff," you say to Big-Iron as you pass by. The sheriff jumps, pulling him out of his dead eyed stupor.

"Oh, howdy there convict. You're up early,” he grouses, scratching his nose. “Er, ex-convict, I reckon. How's that busted up spirit of yers?"

"Oh it's fine, how's the iron hip?"

He looks down into his drink. "Hurts everyday. It's absolutely miserable."

"Oh, is that why you're such a shithead?" You snort. There’s a grumble as he downs his drink in one gulp.

"Nah, that's the reason I got shot in the ass in the first place! My only joy in life is proliferatin’ misery!"

"Well, uh, good luck with that,” you respond, raising an eyebrow and spinning yourself back towards the door. He tips his hat to you as you quickly try to get out of conversation distance.

When you make it out of the half-door, you hear the plucking of strings off in the distance a ways out. Plucking is about all you can call it, because it’s _definitely_ not music. Following the sound, you find yourself up at a pavilion out around the edge of town. The first thing you lay eyes on is Delta Dawn, sitting on one of the benches with her legs gathered underneath herself and guitar in hand. There’s a few other trolls by her side- Growly Pete, of course, and others you didn’t bother to learn the names of.

"Morning, Ms. Dawn," you call, making your way up the creaky wooden steps. Jeeze, you feel like an elementary student talking to her teacher. Her eyes slide up to meet you, half lidded, with the slightest hint of amusement pricking the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, mornin’, Barbara. Finally thought to join us?" She asks, casually leaning against the wood behind her. You hazard a glance up at the sky. It can't be past noon- you must've only been asleep for 5 hours. "When you didn't meet the world yesterday, I thought all the excitement must've done gone and killt you."

Yesterday? Fuck, did you sleep an entire _day?_

Taking note of the look on your face, Delta sits up and sets her guitar aside. "So, me n' that funny lil' felon you've shacked up with-"

"Which one?" You ask, plopping yourself down onto the bench beside her.

"The funny one."

_Poppy, gotcha._

"We got to talkin' while you were comatose," She continues. "She told me about what you did, why we all came back to our senses."

It's hard to keep your eyes on hers, all stern and set in. Instead, you look down at your feet in shame.

"It was mighty brave what you did." She chuckles a little, scratching the side of her nose. "I figured you must've just tripped and broke 'em and was covering your ass, but I reckon I was wrong. It must've been hard to smash 'em like that."

_It was the easiest decision you'd made since that fucking tour, actually._

"I almost wish you hadn't."

"Huh?" You raise your head back up to look at her, confused. Delta's staring over at her guitar, a frown drawn across her face.

"Country trolls…" She sighs, deeply, and lets her fingers travel down the embroidery emblazoned on the front. "We _need_ our music. It's important to us. We started everyday with a little hoedown about mortality. Without it, we got nothin'. Those Bro-country slackjaws, they was just tryin to fill that void. Not that they didn't get what was comin' to 'em; I'd rather be a zombie than hear that garbage again, but still."

"Country ain't-" You quickly catch yourself, shaking your head. " _-isn't_ , gone. You still got it inside of you."

"Oh, Spare me that mushy hogwash, Barbara.” She bangs her knuckles against her belt button. "You n' I both know there ain't nothin' in here. You heard me pluckin' at that damned thing before, I don't reckon it qualified as _music_."

"No, _really_ , Delta." You hop off the bench, suddenly, a fire building in your gut. Something about the hopelessness in the Mayor's voice was getting to you, maybe. “I got it in me too! Here, hand me that guitar, I'll show you."

There’s a tense look thrown at you, before, eventually, Delta sighs. She tenderly picks up her instrument and holds it out to you. "Fine. Knock yourself out, skinny. It ain't doin’ me any good anymore."

You take it from her, and give it a glance over. The thing clearly had a lot of love put into it- even without color the stitching is beautiful, if not a little worn out. Admittedly, you've never played a guitar that didn't have a cord hooked to it, but you suppose it can't be all that different. You pluck at the strings, trying to get a feel for it. Tilting her head, Delta raises an eyebrow at you.

"So where's that music, chief?"

"Hold on, just- give me a second."

You pull your pick out of your pocket and give the guitar a few good strums. Something resembling a tune comes out, if you squint your... Ears... At it. Delta leans back on her haunches, and by the look in her eyes, you can tell she's hoping you're right about this thing. You run your pick across the strings again, and suddenly, a spark ignites in your heart. The music comes naturally, the tune sounding like the product of a practiced hand. Fingers glide across the neck as you play- it’s a simple ditty, but it’s the start of something _more._ Music. 

It takes a moment to snap out of it, and when you look back at Delta again, you lose your nerve. Sheepishly, you hold the guitar back out to her.

"... See, what'd I tell you? It's all in here."

Delta’s standing now, looking at you wide eyed like a forest critter seconds from being mowed down by a caterbus. "What the hell do you think yer doin’?! Keep playin’ girl!” She flaps an empty hand to the side quickly, gesturing at the troll across from her. “Pete, _PETE_ , give me your guitar!"

Growly Pete growls, as he is want to do, but gives up his acoustic nonetheless. She takes it into her hands gently, readying her hands, and nods at you. There’s a shared grin before you turn inward, to that spark in your heart, and let it ignite.

Your fingers dance across the neck of the guitar, and you can already feel lyrics forming, burning at your mouth. 

_"... I don't want to wait anymore, I'm tired of looking for answers,_

_Take me some place where there's music and there's laughter…”_

The few trolls out and about stop what they're doing, and turn your way. All with that same, wide-eyed look Delta had earlier. 

_"I don't know if I'm scared of dying, but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow-_

_Regret, remorse, hold on, oh no, I've got to go."_

A few trolls have caught your tune on the wind, and gradually, they've started to gather around you. Hands on the banister of the pavilion and faces peeking through the gaps around you.

_"There's no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on..."_

The slowly growing circle of gray faces almost causes you to falter. You swallow it down, though, quickly, pushing on. 

_"And you've just gotta keep on, keeping on..._

_Gotta keep on going, looking straight out on the road,_

_Can't worry 'bout what's behind you or what's coming for you further up the road,"_

Delta keeps perfect pace with you, and you swear you see something sparkling off of her. Orange, and soft, catching on the white sun behind her mane. 

_"I try not to hold on to what is gone, I try to do right what is wrong,"_

You spot Bo in the crowd, his hat in his hand.

_"I try to keep on keeping on,_

_Yeah, I just keep on keeping on..."_

There’s a brilliant shift in the air as you hit your stride, and Delta lends her voice to yours. Perfectly in harmony.

_"I hear a voice calling,_

_Calling out for me,_

_These shackles I've made in an attempt to be free,_

_Be it for reason, be it for love,_

_I won't take... The easy road..."_

It’s now, as you play to this growing crowd, that you can't help but think of your dad. You haven’t thought about him in a while. Just what happened to him. What would he think of this? Would he be ashamed? Or proud?

_"I've woken up in a hotel room, my worries as big as the moon,_

_Having no idea who, or what, or where I am,_

_Something good comes with the bad,_

_A song's never just sad,_

_There's hope, there's a silver lining,"_

Your eyes fall on Poppy, who's finally joined the ranks of the country trolls. Eyes wide with awe, leaning over the bannister so far you swear she might fall over. Branch is there too, but you're not looking at him.

_"Show me my silver lining,”_

Those sparkles are everywhere now, filling the air, surrounding you. 

_"Show me my silver lining..."_

Poppy is grinning ear to ear- and it occurs to you now that this is the first time she’s been able to see you play, without anything ruining it. Not zombified, or in fear. Like it’s meant to be. That fire in your heart is burning brighter than ever.

_"I hear a voice calling,_

_Calling out for me,_

_These shackles I've made in an attempt to be free,_

_Be it for reason, be it for love-"_

You realize you're still staring at her, so you look away, embarrassed. Instead your eyes turn to Delta, to see her looking so... Bright. Vibrant, colored in that orange hue that now painted the sky above you. Her voice is loud, almost louder than yours, as she belts out her song.

_“I won't take the easy road,_

_The easy road, the easy road,_

_I won't take the easy road,_

_The easy road, the easy road,"_

There’s a flash as the sparkles start to coalesce into a blinding light. Though you can barely see, the blaze inside wouldn’t let you stop if you tried.

_"Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on,_

_Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on_

_Show me my silver lining, I try to keep on keeping on…”_

Your hands slowly let the music fade as you close your eyes, the light painting the inside of your eyelids a bright orange.

_"I try to keep on keepin' on..."_

The light explodes, washing over the land like a tidal wave, a beam of pure orange painting the sky shades of twilight. When you open your eyes it's to thunderous applause. A sea of trolls, of all different colors, cheering for _you._ Poppy's front and center, the only one still grey, looking like she's about to burst into tears.

Delta pulls you in for a tight bear hug.

"Well I'll be a monkey's uncle, you weren't just full of shit!" She laughs, heaving you off your feet and shaking your entire body, "infact, you might as well be the least full of shit person I know!" You thump her arm, trying to let her know she's crushing your ribs. She drops you like a sack of potatoes. "Oh, sorry about that. But how'd you learn to play like that? You sounded like you'd been playin' for decades!"

She offers you a hand up, and you gladly take it. "I don't know, it just came naturally..."

You can barely get back up to your feet, before you're bum rushed into another hug.

_"Ohmygosh,_ Barb, you did it! You were _soooooo_ amazing!"

There's an awkward chuckle and a pat on her back as Poppy squeezes the everloving goodness out of you. Thankfully she doesn't have the sheer upper body strength of Ms. Dawn over there. Poppy looks up at you, and immediately lets you go. Maybe now you can get some air in your lungs.

"Uh, haha whoops," she says, bashfully. "Sorry, I got a bit excited... Oh wow, what happened to your hair?"

"Huh?" Your hands quickly feel through your mohawk, but nothing seems any different. Reaching into her own hair, Poppy pulls out a mirror and holds it up for you. Sure enough, your matte gray Mohawk has a shock of color in it, a long orange streak right through the front.

"What the hell… Where'd _that_ come from?" You pull out a single hair- with only a little _'ow'-_ and hold it up to the light. It's sparkling, kinda like... You give it a pluck. 

All the trolls gasp as the strand of hair bursts into a giant, sparkling cowboy hat shape, a country twang ringing through the air. 

Delta puts her hands on her hips. "Well, I'll be. Looks like you got yourself a country string."

_This... Came from you?_ Marveling at it, you extend the thing towards her, but she immediately puts up a hand to stop you.

"Naw, I reckon it belongs to you. Y'all earned it."

In amidst all of the commotion, Branch pushes his way past hooting and hollering country trolls to make his way to you. He's sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck, and you're almost worried he's here to spoil the mood.

"I had my doubts, but... I'm troll enough to admit it. You did _great_ ," He says, giving you a gentle smile.

"Oh, uh… thanks, Branch. Does this mean we're cool?" 

" _Ehhhhh_." Drawing his mouth into a line, he tilts his hand back and forth uneasily. You snicker and shake your head.

"I'll take it."

* * *

"We've kept your bike in here," drawls Delta, cantering beside you, leading you out across town to a big building. It's different than the usual country scenery- less dusty and torn up. It's solid brown stone with a heavy metal shutter door in front. "A bit outta place in a frontier town, I know, but the odd traveler needs a place to park their wagon, so to speak."

Swishing her tail, Delta Dawn moves around and in front of you, putting herself between you and the garage door. She chews on her lip a little, looking back at you. "Now Barbara, don't get mad, alright?"

"Why would I be mad?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. "Looks like you kept her under lock and key. Wait... Did you not _feed_ her?"

"Naw, it ain't that, just- Well, I _might_ have… Maybe..." With a heavy sigh, she grabs hold of the heavy metal sheet and lifts it up. "... keyed your bike?"

With a gasp, you push past her and to your bike's side. You quickly find that, yes indeed, _DELTA_ is carved into her flank in giant, scratchy letters. 

"Now _in my defense_ , you were an ass that turned my whole town into some kinda undead nightmare, so..."

You kneel down beside your bike, trying to ascertain whether or not she's hurt. She just rolls all of her eyes at you and tilts her head down to sip at some gas from a bowl. ...Well, other than the tank being a bit full, she seems fine. Relieved, you pat her on the head and look back to the mayor.

"Well… It's alright. You know, I never did give her a name," You grin, leaning back. "Maybe it could be-"

"Now honey," interrupts Delta with a scowl, "Don't you _dare_ name the thing that your ass has worn a dent into after me. I'm gonna have to make a mayoral decree about that one."

"Yeah, no, you're right. I already named her Big Debbie, anyway. I don't know why I said that."

Delta looks at you funny as she moves to lift the door back up. "Ain't that bat of yours named Debbie, too?"

"Yeah, but she's Little Debbie."

"Like them snack cakes?"

"The what, now?"

Delta just shakes her head. "Never mind. I'll send Queeny and the other one round this way whenever they're up and about. Y'all just stop by and say yer farewells before you hit the trail, alright? I got some rabblerowsers what need an ear-tuggin' before they get back to work. Er, what's that sayin' you rock folk like to say? _Catch you on the flipside, Slick."_

You scoff at her as you lead Big Debbie out of the door. "Pfft, yeah, maybe like twenty years ago, ya old timer."

When everything's said and done and the crowd in the center of town has finally dispersed, you park your bike behind the saloon and wait for your two passengers to meet you. It doesn't take long. Soon enough you spot Poppy bounding down the stairs with an armful of little souvenirs for herself and Branch following behind, hands in his pockets. 

You and Poppy quickly work to get everything packed back on the bike, only slightly annoyed that the things Riff took so much time organizing had clearly been gone through and put back wrong. You can't really blame those country folk for being suspicious, though. At the very least, it all seems to be there. 

It takes a while before you realize there's only two of you around the bike. You look over at Branch, who seems a bit empty handed. "You just gonna stand there looking shitty or are you gonna help pack? Here, there's a little space if you scootch over the box lunches."

"Yeah, Sooooo…" Wincing, Branch grabs his arm and looks away from you. "Uh, I'm not... I'm not going with you."

Poppy pauses what she's doing to turn to look at him, confused, but still smiling. "What? Branch, if you wanna stay a few more days and help out, we can take a siesta. Right, Barb?"

Well, you _are_ jonesing to get to the next kingdom and fix their shit, but a few more days in Lonesome Flats wouldn't be the worst thing. Maybe you and Delta could jam a little, maybe you could show her how to rock… You shrug your shoulders. "Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, I'm cool with that."

Branch lets go of his arm and stands a little more... Firmly? You guess? "No, I mean... I'm going home. To Tro-" He catches himself. "-to _Pop_ Village."

You throw a look at Poppy. "Did you _seriously_ name your town 'Troll Village'-"

"Not now, Barb," Poppy shushes you with a raised hand. "What do you _mean_ you're going home? Is this about the other night? Branch, I-"

"No, it's not," he breaks in quickly, shaking his head. He steps to her, and hesitantly puts an arm on her shoulder. "Listen, Poppy, I want to stay and help you. You _know_ that. But the trolls back home, our friends, our family-"

_Do they have kids?_ You think, sticking out your tongue in disgust. Eugh, the horrible little creature that must've popped out of his skull... No, no- he probably just meant their close friends. _God, but could you imagine?_

"-they _need_ us. DJ Suki's pod is probably flooded as we speak, not to mention all the safety code violations that are probably going on, and someone needs to refurbish the fungeon..."

Poppy's faltering smile regains its strength, but worry is still written on her features. "And... you're okay with it just being me and Barb? Weren't you saying she was gonna shank us in our sleep?"

You glare at him. Really? A _shank?_ You'd just use a rock if anything, who does he think you _are?_

"I was wrong," he says in earnest, shrugging his shoulders. "She might be a total screw-up, but I believe that she's a sorry one."

You cross your arms and look off to the side, mumbling " _you're the sorry one here,"_ under your breath.

"I already talked to a few of the trolls that helped me scoop the poop," Branch continues, letting his hand fall back to his side. He at least looks reluctant to go, brows furrowed tightly together. "And they're willing to give me a ride back, so... I guess this is goodbye."

"Are you sure you won't come with us? I'll give you back your OSHA compliance book," asks Poppy, head tilted down. There's a slight whine to her words, hands fidgeting with the edge of her dress.

Actually, you might take a peek at that book… A stage in the middle of an active volcano might be a safety hazard. Plus there's like, _zero_ guard rails in your kingdom.

"I'm sure."

With a sad huff, Poppy stands up, and brushes off her dress. "Well, I guess there's nothing else to say but goodbye… For now." And now her grin is back, arms crossed and confident as she tilts her head up. "You're not gonna lose me for long though. Once we fix all the other genres, we're coming back- with rainbows and sunshine."

As if on queue, their bracelets light up, causing Branch to jump. Weird. You hadn't seen them do that since before you zombied them.

"Oh, wow, I thought these things were busted," says Poppy, raising it up to her eyes. It shines a bright white light- colorless, but still functioning.

Branch stares at his quizically. "Maybe it was just waiting for the right moment? Sky _did_ mention some new Troll Ex-Machina features in his TROL talk..."

That whole sentence was just a whole bunch of words that don't mean anything to you. Either way, taking the cue of the lite brites on their wrists, the two of them embrace, and you swear you see a tear roll down Poppy's cheek. Seeing you stare, she breaks away slightly, offering an arm to you.

"This is some _primo_ hug Barb, you want in?"

Face growing hot, you look away from her and start aimlessly shifting things around in your bike's saddle bag. "Uh, no, I'm good. Gotta pack and all."

"That's okay. You'll get the next one sport."

You just groan in response. But, _maybe…_

* * *

With everything settled, you wave goodbye from the saddle of your critter as Branch approaches the wagon one of the country trolls pulled up for him.

"So do you just... Grab the riegns and pull me along?" You hear him ask the big, burly country troll beside him. 

"No. That's what the beetle’s for,” the troll grumbles back, eyeing him suspiciously, “Why would I cart you around, do I _look_ like a gotdamned horse to you?" Branch opens his mouth to speak. "If you want to keep all your teeth you won't answer that.” Branch shuts his mouth. 

You feel Poppy hop onto the back of your bike, having a little while ago finished the last of her many goodbye hugs. 

"Ugh, can't believe I’m waving goodbye,” you mutter to her, “Can you _believe_ that guy? Just ditching us like that."

Poppy frowns, waving you away. "Aw, lay off him. He's just doing what he thinks is right. To be honest, hometown is probably a mess without me, so he was right about them needing a little help."

"So, he's like your Riff?"

"Kinda, yeah! But like, less of an assistant and more of a best friend."

Best friend huh? That's nice to hear... For no reason in particular. The thought curls in the back of your mind as Poppy puts her hands on your shoulders, leaning in so she doesn’t slip off. 

"Well, fearless apology leader, where are we off to next?" She says, her breath tickling the back of your neck. 

You do your best to ignore it. Kicking Big Debbie's legs up, you rev her engine with a shrug of your shoulders. "Well, first I promised I'd swing by Delta before I left, say goodbye. After that, I dunno."

Poppy hums thoughtfully, watching you turn the bike towards Town Hall. "You know, It's kinda cute how quick you and Delta bonded. You just have a way with Queens, I guess!"

You face flushes again. "W-well uh. Actually Delta isn't a, uh, Queen. She’s a mayor."

"What’s that?"

"Oh it's like... An elected official, or something. It's weird,” you explain, quickly, rolling your eyes. “... So, I guess maybe I just have a way with lame women?"

_Way cooler._

Poppy just giggles. "Well, I guess it takes one to know one!"

"Oof, ow, that _stings_ , Poptart."

It’s only a short ride to Delta’s abode, but it’s a nice one. A contemplative one. It gives you a chance to really get a good look at the place before leaving it again. Somehow, you feel you can appreciate the dusky oranges and browns of the landscape better, now. Not like when you first arrived to burn the place down. The consequences of your destruction were still evident, of course, but seeing all of the country trolls working together, singing their own little tunes… It makes you wonder how you had brought yourself to tear it apart. 

The squeeze of Poppy’s hands on your shoulders pulls you out of it, and you land your bike in front of Delta’s front porch. 

"Well, we're fixin’ to head out,” you call out loud to the door. 

Delta quickly trots out to see you all off, but pauses when she spots you. She quickly runs the math in her head, and comes up a bit short. "...Where's that grumpy one? He ain’t scared of little ol' me, is he?"

"Oh uh,” you frown and look to the side, nonchalantly. “He kinda bailed, actually."

Delta puts her hands on her hips and spits, scowling. "Well how about that. After how he shoveled that manure, I thought there was a real country spark in him! Guess he weren't nothin’ but a rat. I’m real sorry about that."

"Nah, he just had some important stuff to do,” you assure her, feeling Poppy tense behind you. You suppose you couldn’t hold it against him, anyhow. 

"He basically maintained our entire sewage system back home."

"Ah, I getcha,” Delta chuckles. “A sewer rat, then. Well, either way, I got somethin’ for ya before you head off into the sunset. Or, rather, I got some _one_ who's got somethin’."

She reaches into her hair, and pulls out a... Child? Oh, okay, that's where the hand and voice came from earlier. You thought she just had a tumor or something. A really weird tumor. … Not that it's normal for someone to be holding a child out to you. 

The little trolling smiles at you, a sweet bucktoothed thing with big heart-melting eyes. She reminds you of the kids back home, almost, if a little bit more colorful. 

"Clampers, what have you got for the nice lady?" Asks Delta with a smile, urging her forward.

Toddling forward on her stumpy hooves, Clampers pulls out a little cowboy hat. It’s beige, with a small iron star emblazoned on the band. She holds it out to you, and your eyebrows raise in surprise.

"I made this for you,” she says softly, “‘cause you saved music, and now my maw can sing me a lullaby again."

_Oh._ You can feel your face grow hot, and something pricking at the corner of your eye. …You’re not gonna cry. _You’re not gonna cry._

"Oh, uh, thank you, thanks Clampers,” you sputter, voice cracking. You reach for the hat, but she instead lifts it up to put it on your head, pushing down the front of your mohawk. 

As she gets close, she whispers in your ear. "You want me to bite leaf boy on the butt?"

Sniffling and wiping away a tear, you quickly side eye Poppy, making sure she isn't listening in. "...Maybe just a quick chomp. He went that way."

Giving you a big grin (with _way_ too many teeth) she salutes you, before rocketing off into the distance. Delta curses as she watches her go, shaking her fist.

" _Clampers!_ Gotdamnit, there she goes again. I swear, that girl just does as she pleases." She sighs, shaking her head and fixing her hat. "Oh well... as long as she's back by sundown. As for you two, you stay safe out there, ya hear? Wouldn’t want to hear y'all ended up in the ground."

Tipping your little hat at her with a smirk, you pull up your reigns and get read6 for takeoff. "Will do, ma'am. Giddyup!" 

You bang your heels into the side of your bike, which doesn’t move.

"I uh... I guess I still need to..."

"Use the pedals, yes."

"Yeah, right."

Trying not to look her in the eyes, you crank the engine and speed off into the distance, while Delta just shakes her head.

"City slickers, I _swear..."_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song Barb plays in this chapter is My Silver Lining by First Aid Kit! https://youtu.be/sNNYtm2XJGc
> 
> As Always, thank you for reading, comments and kudos are appreciated (:


	7. Take a Chance on Me

It's evening when you reach the forest surrounding Pop Village. Everything's quiet, save for a few noises from hidden critters here and there. You bring your bike to a stall in a nice little clearing in the trees, and hop off. Far enough to know you're not near the village, close enough to still smell residual smoke from your little 'conquest.' 

You stretch a bit, and hear something in your back pop. Maybe Riff was right about seeing someone about your spine. "Hey Poppy, I don't suppose Pop Village has a chiropractor? Or, sorry, I mean _Troll_ Village, where the only trolls live."

After sliding off your critterbike herself, Poppy, lips pursed, turns to rummage through one of the saddlebags. Presumably for some lunch. It _has_ been a while since you had a good meal. 

"Yeah, in hindsight it's weird my dad named it that. I mean, he _knew_ about all the other Trolls the whole time," she says, thoughtfully. "But, uh… No, I don't think we have one of those. We have Dr. Moonbloom though! She kinda does all that medical stuff, everything besides having a good bedside manner." She passes you a small box, which you open to find a thick sandwich and a red juice pouch. _Oh shit,_ tropical punch, your favorite! You really gotta hand it to that little dude, he's _damn_ good at what he does.

"How so?" You ask, watching Poppy carefully spread out a little blanket onto the ground. You settle onto it as she continues, unwrapping your meal.

"Well, she likes to imply you're dying, wait for a reaction, _then_ finish her sentence." She chuckles, doing the same, thin paper crinkling underneath her fingers. "Between you and me, I think she just thinks it's funny."

You struggle to try to get the little straw through the spot in the top of your juice pouch, to no avail. You take it back- Riff is the worst assistant _ever_. _Oh, dammit, now the straw is bending._ "Yikes. Our doctor just tells you to rub some dirt in it. One time I nearly lost a toe and she told me that, so I did. ...It uh, it wasn't sound medical advice."

" _Wow_. Then I'm glad I didn't hurt myself being all zombied."

"Pssh," You roll your eyes, still absentmindedly jamming the straw into unyielding plastic, "Like I'd send you to her. I took care of you myself." There's a pause. Realizing what you just said, you kinda look down and away. You need to stop letting those thoughts that should stay in your head out of your mouth. "I mean because like. I can't have my assistant getting gangrene, right? That would, uh, mess up my schedule."

Poppy looks at you quizically for a few seconds. Then, she points at your juice pouch.

"Hey, do you need help with that?"

"Huh? No I uh... I got this." You stuff the straw in your pocket and just tear off the top with your teeth. Juice, predictably, sloshes everywhere, staining your tank top with red droplets. "I drink it like this, actually."

" _Riiiiiiiight_."

The two of you settle into a comfortable sort of silence as you eat. You resist the urge to just tear the sandwich apart like you usually do. Poppy chews carefully, drumming her fingers on her thigh. With the way she wrinkles her nose after each bite, you figure that the fact it's just meat piled onto two slices of bread wasn't really her thing. So out of what you guess is respect, you try to match her pace to keep yourself from looking like an animal. 

Eventually, though, she breaks the silence.

"So what's the plan, Barb Wire?" Your eyes dart over to her, mid-chew. She's leaning back on her hands, knocking her heels together. "Who are we bringing smiles to next? I got _tons_ of them and I just can't give them out fast enough!"

Scootching to your side, she pulls out her map again, and you consider it closely.

"Hmmmm... I dunno," you mumble, eyes flicking between each region. With Pop right in the center, almost anywhere was viable. "Maybe Vibe City? But that's all the way on the other side of the river..."

"How about Symphonyvile? They're right next door to us, it's just a hop skip and jump!"

You grimace at the thought. "I don't know..."

"Can I ask you something? It's because they look like adult babies, right?"

"Oh one hundred percent,” you nod. 

"I thought they were kind of cute,” says Poppy with an amiable shrug. “Like when you see a fat cat that's twelve years old."

"If we could just skip that one, I'd be totally fine."

Humming under her breath, Poppy re-examines the map, hand folded under her chin. Her other hand traces the lines thoughtfully, before landing outwards, to the seaside. "Well, how about the Techno Trolls?"

"Whe chnt ghft-" You take a second to chew and swallow, so you don't get any more crumbs on Poppy's fancy book. "-Sorry. We can't get there, remember? Deep underwater?"

Poppy smiles and turns the page. _Oh boy._ "I've been thinking about that, and I know someone who can help us out." She pulls a tab, and a little sharply dressed felt troll pops up, proudly proclaiming in huge colorful letters _'TUG DULUTH'S WORLD PEACE OCEAN TOUR.'_ "It's Tug Duluth!"

You raise an eyebrow. You don’t really know who that is, but you suppose you have to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Yeah, I got that. So she like, offers this tour?"

"Well, not yet, buuut she will when we explain everything to her!” Poppy cheerfully slaps the book closed, stuffing it back in her hair. 

"Oh, yeah, okay. That makes sense."

The two of you finish up your lunch, your course set, and your tank top only a little juice stained.

* * *

It's a mutual decision that taking the bike would draw too much attention to you, and you're not keen on letting Pop Village know you're in town until you're ready to deal with whatever is keeping their music dead. Big Debbie huffs as you break the news, clearly not a fan of being ditched again.

"I know, I'm sorry girl," you say, kneeling down to her side. Patting her shell, you lean against her. "We'll be right back, okay? Who's mommy's big baby?"

You scratch her under the chin, and she chirps loudly, lightening up a bit. 

_"Good girl._ Now don't go too far from here, alright?" You look back to make sure Poppy is out of earshot, before you lean down to whisper in your bike's ear. "I love you."

"D'aww!"

Yelping and grabbing at your chest, you spin around to see Poppy less than a foot away from you. 

"You ready to hit the trail?" She asks with a grin, like she knew she nearly gave you a heart attack.

"Yeah just, _fuck_ , give me a second," you choke, taking a few deep breaths before regaining your composure. "...Yeah, okay, let's go."

The two of you carefully skirt around the edge of the village, doing your best to avoid any trolls that might be out and about. Luckily for you the woods seem to be empty, so there's no chance of getting jumped by that little yellow beast. You suppose they must all be inside, mourning their loss of color- or, _maybe_ their currently missing leader. 

"Alright," whispers Poppy, gesturing through the bushes, "her booth is right up ahead. I gotta say, this was _really_ easy. Go team!"

As the two of you approach Tug Duluth Adventures, you get a good view of your mark- a huge fish with hollow guts. It kind of reminds you of one of your buses, actually, but _way_ less metal and cool.

"It doesn't even have any denim..." You mutter dolefully.

"Denim is strictly prohibited on the Tug-Marine!" 

Before you can even make yourselves known, a troll pops up from behind the counter, ready and raring to offer customer service. She's smiling wide, hands folded and proper, sharply dressed like the little troll in Poppy's scrapbook. 

"Queen Poppy, how delightful to see you! And-" You think you see a blood vessel pop in her eye as she turns to look at you. " _Queen Barbara!_ Fun Fact: I wish you had been torn limb from limb!"

You shift nervously. "That's... not really that fun a fact."

Before the tension gets any thicker, Poppy slaps her hand on the counter. "Tug, we need two tickets on your next submarine tour. Also, we need to borrow it."

Eyes instantly yanking away from you, Tug smiles at Poppy once again. "Wonderful! After our last nautical outing, I am very pleased to not put my life in mortal danger. That will be one big hug!"

Poppy reaches over the counter and gives the tour guide a big squeeze. She gratefully accepts, and after a few back pats, the Pop queen gestures you over. "Alright Barb, it's your turn."

"Ugh... Do I have to?"

Tug quickly shakes her head, putting up a hand. "I would very much prefer you did not touch me."

Confused, Poppy looks back to her. "Huh?"

"While hugs are the accepted currency of Troll Village, my eyes have been opened to the lands beyond, full of awful trolls with awful barter systems," She explains, matter-of-factly. "As such, I have adjusted my prices based on the individual's currency!"

With a deep groan, you reach into your pocket. Damn vultures. "I think I got a few bucks in here..."

"Excellent, then that will be three thousand dollars!"

You freeze in place. Three thousand dollars?! What the Hell, do you look like you're made of money? You're basically wearing a rag as is. 

"Uh, three thousand... right," you swallow, inching over to put a hand on Poppy's back. "Could you excuse me and queeny for a moment?"

"Of course!" Tug sweetly exclaims, folding her hands back onto the table, "Try not to trip and break your neck, that would be truly awful."

Glaring over your shoulder, you take Poppy aside. Her eyes follow yours for a moment, before turning back to you with a worried frown. 

"Is everything okay, Barb? That's not a lot, is it?"

"Listen, my net worth is about twenty bucks and a bit of pocket lint- there's no way in Hell I can afford that!"

Poppy shakes her head for a moment, smugly smiling at you. "Don't worry. All the assets we need are right _here_ , and right _here_." She flexes for you, in a way that isn't even a little impressive. You raise an eyebrow at her. "I'm gonna give her a _Treasury's_ worth of hugs."

Poppy walks back up to the counter, confidence in her step, muscles straining with a barely contained embrace. Tug eyes her the whole way up, little eyes unblinking. Honestly, she kind of gives you the creeps, in a way that only pop trolls know how.

"I'd like a second ticket please. I'm prepared to pay _handsomely_." Batting her eyelashes, she leans forward, opening her arms wide.

"I'm sorry," states Tug cheerily, "but only one ticket per customer."

"Don't worry about it, I'm buying for a friend."

"Oh, of course! That will be three thousand dollars, please."

Poppy visibly deflates. You come over to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. "No one who wasn't a sad little man has ever turned down a hug before..."

"It'll be okay,” you say, giving her a few gentle pats. When you look back at the tour guide, she’s unflinching in the face of Poppy’s sadness. You sigh. “Listen, Tug, I don't have that kind of scratch. Can’t we work something out?"

"Yes, I believe we can!” She says, gesturing to her left, brighter than ever. “If you look to your left, you will see a short pier you can take a long walk off!"

"But-"

She doesn’t wait for you to finish, shooing you away with one hand. "And you're walking, and you're walking, and you're walking..."

* * *

"...So I say let's steal it."

The two of you found a nice log to sit on in the forest clearing, nice and peaceful, to brainstorm a solution to this money puzzle. So far no dice, but you think this one has some legs. You watch as Poppy rolls her eyes, blowing a strand of grey hair from her face.

"Barb, I think at some point we need to have a _serious_ talk about how much you love crime. Before you ask, that means no." You kick a clump of dirt with a huff. What's a bit of a rap sheet when you're talking about saving music? She just smiles at you, before slyly reaching into her hair. "No, I have an idea. And too express it...!"

_Oh no._ The Pop queen breaks out the scrapbook and the scissors. You already feel your shoulders tense up for the inevitable. She's about to cut into a sheet of felt, when she suddenly stops. "Hey, Barber Shop..."

You feel a twinge in your chest, now that she's fully just doing your nickname thing.

"You've never scrap booked before, have you?'

"Uh, no. Rock trolls don't really do that. It's kinda... not metal."

Well, some of Poppy's graphic depictions of violence in that thing are pretty metal, but that's beside the point. But Poppy just gives you another one of those warm smiles, extending her big scissors your way. It’s hard to say no to a face like that, especially with how patient she’s been...

"Would you like to learn? Scrapbooking always makes me feel amazing, and is a _great_ way to work out your demons! I showed you the page of my demons already, right?"

… Well, it's not like you're on a schedule or anything, and she does seem pretty excited about it. You suppose you’ll give her this. Just this once.

"Yeah sure, why not?” You say, settling down across from her. You fold your legs underneath yourself, taking the shears into your hand. “Show me how to make a big fuck-off skull. With flames. And a Fourty."

Poppy snorts at that, nudging you with her fist. "Why don’t we start with the plan okay? A new album cover is _definitely_ priority two though!” Reaching over into her supplies, she slides you over a square of thin felt, a soft blue color. “Okay so first, cut out some of this blue here, in a troll hair shape. Kinda like an onion...?"

With shaking hands, you hold up the scissors to the felt sheet. They're actually a bit heavier then you thought they'd be- not _Heavy_ heavy, but definitely unwieldy. It's not long before you mess up a cut.

"Oops, damnit."

"That's okay! You'll get it this time."

You nod your head and try again. It's not two seconds in that you mess up again. And again. Enough times where it's starting to get frustrating. In fact, you're about ready to just give up and let her do it. She must be having a good time yucking it up about how bad at this you are, with the way she's looking at you. Hand folded under her chin, biting her lip like she's trying to keep herself from laughing too obviously.

"Here, let me help you," she says eventually. "It's a bit tricky, but you'll get the hang of it." She reaches a hand out for the scissors. "May I?"

You sigh and push them to her. "Go ahead."

But instead of reaching for the scissors, she places her hand on yours. Your eyes dart back up to hers, about to say something, but for some reason it catches in your throat.

"I'll do the steering, if you do the cutting!" Says Poppy with a grin.

You're not sure this is going to make it any easier. At all. Might get you a bit shakier. But you try your best. 

Poppy's hand gently guides you along through multiple squares of fabric, making jagged shapes out of each color. Her tongue clamped between her teeth in intense thought, like she's already got each piece mapped out in her head. You find yourself watching her more than the scrapbooking; you're sure the pieces are coming out half as uniform as when she does it, but if she cared it didn't show. She was too focused on the pages you were crafting, mumbling and humming under her breath. You were thankful for that. 

When the thing was finally done and glued together, Poppy slapped the pages closed. She stood up straight, pacing in front of you, cradling the scrapbook in her arms.

"Alright, so here's the plan..."

She quickly opens the book to you, and your crude, vaguely troll like shapes jump out. One of them even falls from the page, but it's a bush, so it's not plot critical.

"I already know the plan, you literally just made me make it."

"Well, yes, but the visual aid is the most important part!" She exclaims, shushing you. "Plus, I think you did a really good job, and I'm proud of you and want to show it off in Plan Recap form."

You look away bashfully, wringing your hands in your tank top. It's not _that_ good. Or really good at all. But Poppy quickly snaps her fingers, refocusing your attention on the book.

"Uh uh, eyes up front Barb. We gotta _really_ absorb this. So anyway, the plan, here it is-" She pulls her tab, and a janky figure just barely recognizable as Tug appears, crossing her arms. "So she won't let you hug it out for a ticket right? Because she probably hates you."

Huffing through your nose in agreement. you rest your cheek in your hand. You wait for her to continue, but she doesn't for the longest time, just stares at you. 

"Uh... Yes?"

"Right!" She exclaims happily. Oh, she was waiting for you to just... You groan again internally. Not seeming to notice, Poppy continues, fiddling with her pages. "So... All we gotta do is make her not hate you!"

Two little felt blobs pop up, touching limbs, exclaiming "We're amicable now!"

You roll your eyes. "And just _how_ do we ever do that?" 

"I'm glad you ask! If we flip back a few hundred chapters here-" Shuffling through the pages, it takes a moment for her to get to the end before she pauses, furrowing her brow. "Oh, whoops, that must've been in one of my other scrapbooks..."

"There's _more_ of them?"

She stuffs the book back in her hair. "Oh yeah! Hundreds of them! I'll have to loan you a few sometime, they're a pretty good read… But!" She claps her hands together, realizing she was rambling. "Back to _The Plan_. One time her and Branch became really good friends while he was helping her find a new tour! So all we gotta do is _that,_ and you'll be in like Flynn!"

"Okay, then…" Seems easy enough. You're sure there's plenty of stupid crap in this forest to look at. Sitting up, you look around your surroundings. ...Yep, a whole lot of woods you don't know anything about. "Uh, any tour ideas?"

Grinning, Poppy pulls a comically long list out of her hair. A list so long it'd be a gag on a TV show.

"Well, I _might_ have a few...."

* * *

Tug Deluth hadn't moved an inch from when you'd left her, back as straight as her teeth, fingers folded together as she waited for customers that would never come. She only perked up a little at the sight of you trudging back through the bushes, faces set in determination. 

"Oh, you're back! Do you have money this time? Fun Fact: if you don't, I might get unpleasant!"

"How is that a fact if youre saying you _might?"_ You ask.

Her grip on the counter tightens. "You have mere moments before I lose it!"

You back up a step or two, raising your hands. "Woah, simmer down. We're here to help!"

Her left eye twitches slightly. Why is every pop troll you've met so far so fucking _unhinged?_ As if taking that as her queue to jump in, Poppy steps between the two of you, nodding quickly.

"Yep! Barb here wants to help you find a great new tour!"

Apprehensively, Tug's grip loosens, and the twitch leaves her eye. Okay, good. That's the right direction. Tapping her chin, she considers your offer. "Well, in all honesty, an exciting new tour might drum up business. If you look behind you, you'll see that everyone is too miserable to look at gray plants!" You do look behind you, and see she's right- not a soul or a troll in sight. "What location did you have in mind?"

"Well…" Poppy gestures off towards the woods dramatically, tipping her head with a smile. "If you look to your left, you'll find the perfect new tourist attraction!"

Raising an eyebrow, Tug looks off in that direction.

"...No, I mean, you need to follow us that way."

"Oh! Your directions were not clear. You'd make an _awful_ tour guide."

You and Tug both follow close behind Queeny, who's thankfully leading the way to whatever place she has planned. You don't exactly know your way around the woods here, and if you've learned anything from the one or two trips you made out this way, it's that the ecosystem is a fucking Nightmare. It's like everything that moves wants to take a bite out of candy colored flesh. How the Pop trolls carved out a living in this hellscape is beyond you. 

Finally, after half an hour of trudging along in silence, Poppy stops in front of a wall of dense foliage.

"Alright, are you ready for your _amazing_ new tour? Courtesy of the _very_ generous Barb, who is great friend material and absolutely _loves_ finding people new tours." She nudges you with her elbow, giving you a wink.

"Oh, uh, yeah," you say, crossing your arms. "I love doing that highly specific thing for tons of people, yep!"

Poppy nods her head. "Yeah! Just the other day, she showed me uh... This uh... Large boulder... That was.... That was the size of a _small_ boulder!"

You give her a solid Look, and she just shrugs her shoulders. Tug, however, doesn't flinch, eyebrows raised in quaint surprise. 

"Wow, that does sound like quite the locale! I can see I'm dealing with an expert."

Oh shit, it _worked?_

"And _continuing_ her expertise, I give you the next greatest hit in Tug Duluth's catalog of adventures... _Badadada...!"_

With pantomimed fanfare Poppy pulls aside the brush like a curtain, revealing... A river cave, or something? Lake cave, maybe? Regardless, water flows through the entrance, wetting shimmering stones along the cave's walls. It's… pretty scenic, you suppose.

"The _Cave_ of the _Funphibian!"_ Exclaims Poppy, acceniating each word with a gesture of her hand. She stares at Tug expectantly, but she doesn't even flinch, just crosses her arms.

"Sadly, this is already one of my tours." 

Poppy looks shocked, but quickly recovers, shaking her head. "Uh, oh, of course. Secret cave of the... Yep, already have that one. Well, off to the next one, right?" 

Head held low, she takes the lead again, prompting you to closely follow. As you file behind her, you put your hand to your mouth to muffle your whisper, just in case Tug was in ear shot.

"You were really banking on that one, huh?"

Poppy scowls, but does the same. "Only me and Dad are supposed to know about it! It's like... It's a whole thing. The Funphibian is a _huge_ troll tra-"

"I can hear you whisper-shouting!" Calls Tug sweetly, only a few paces behind you now. You and Poppy zip your mouths, before she skips up to take the far lead again.

"Alright, so the first one was a bust, but don't you worry! Our expert here has plenty more for you to feast your eyes on!"

Tug looks back at you, unimpressed. "I certainly doubt that."

What's _that_ supposed to mean?

* * *

Poppy runs down the list at a breakneck pace, only to find each and every location falling short of the promise of renewed business. You're exhausted from running back and forth around the outskirts of Pop Village all day, and Poppy doesn't seem to be faring much better. Her list is absolutely soaked from sweat and torn from being dragged around all day.

"Are we about done?" Sighs Tug, wringing out her skirt from the last location you'd dragged her to, "I would _very_ much like to get back to not letting one half of you use my Tug-marine."

_The Pop-dacity of this bitch._

Furtively scrolling through the paper, Poppy bites her lip. "No, uh, no we went to that one... No, hold on, give me a second... Ah!" She jabs her finger at the last item on the list, barely legible at this point. She crumples the whole thing up into a giant ball, and stuffs it back in her hair. Not a litterbug, then. "Now, all those other amazing locations might have been duds, but this one will _really_ blow your socks off!"

"I do not wear socks," says Tug. "Fun fact, only monsters wear socks. Have you thought of adding them to your wardrobe, Barbara?"

Before you can clap back with a _"No You,"_ Poppy cuts you off.

"It's a figure of speech, and I _FIGURE_ you're going to be _SPEECH_ less when you see where we're going next!" That was a pretty nice one. You nod at her as she points you all forward, dauntlessly. "This way ladies, to the Fearsome forest! … Is uh, is where Barb told me it was, I mean."

Grinning, Tug claps her hands together in delight. "Oh, _excellent!_ Certain Death, death, death, death... How wonderful, after this day there is no place I'd rather tour than my own grave!"

You could arrange that. You've done worse. But the look Poppy gives you in response, as if she knew exactly what you're thinking, stops you in your tracks. So instead you roll your eyes and wait for her to continue.

"Oh it is not death we will find in the forest today, but, in fact, a life being lived for the first time!"

Well, Tug and you can find some common ground on something here, at least. Neither of you have any idea what she's talking about.

In for a Poppy, in for a pound you guess.

The horizon flushes to dulled out orange as the Pop Queen dauntlessly drags you on. It's a while before you recognize where you are, when you pass through the mouth of the large, craggy cave on the farthest outreach of the forest. Poppy offers you a lock of hair, which you tie around your waist, so that she can lower you down. Luckily, she doesn't make you look like the catch of the day this time. Tug is close behind, making an escalator out of her hair. 

No wonder Pop almost took over way back when, this hair shit is almost _unfair._

"This certainly is a forest where trolls meet their demise!" Hums Tug, dusting off her suit jacket. You see her watching you from the corner of her eye as she does so. "If your intention was to find the worst tour location ever, then congratulations!"

"I'm doing my best here, could you lay off me?" Flicking your eyes back to the top of the cave, you cross your arms in your best effort to keep from biting her head off. 

"Absolutely not."

_Figures._ Poppy can't rappel down fast enough; this troll is really getting under your skin now. Thankfully, she soon finds her way down as well, curling into a summersault at the bottom of her drop and popping right back up with a clap of her hands.

" _Alright_ gang, I think Barb can lead us from here! Right Barb?"

You've got a pretty good idea where you're going now, and you nod, moving to the front of the line. Following behind you, Poppy tugs on her hair to light it up, driving away the beasts of the forest.

"Right, yeah. Right down the road." You set off in the general direction of the inner caves, making sure Tug was in tow. 

"You know," says Poppy, hands clasped behind her back, "This is the same way me and Archer went, way back when. _Sigh_... We trauma bonded so _right_."

"Oh, the imposter? Whatever happened to him?" Tug asks, before looking over at you. "Fun Fact, after his Trollnaugeration, he was never seen again."

Poppy just shrugs. "I don't know, maybe the whole ceremony was a little much for him? He didn't really handle positive feedback well… He was a lot like you actually, Barb! He even liked pretty similar music."

"Is that the guy metal man called 'lecherous'?" You raise an eyebrow, pushing past a few protruding roots.

"Haha, yeah! He was pretty rude at the start, trying to leave me for dead and all. Maybe you'll get to meet him someday."

After easily crossing treacherous pits and rapid rivers, you all stop at the base of the cliffs. You suck in an embarrassed breath as Poppy grabs you under the arms without warning, planting her hair in the ground. Her hair stretches out like a critter jack, lifting the two of you all the way up.

"S-So, like can you just do that whenever?" You cough, recomposing yourself. Poppy scrunches up her face in thought.

"Kinda...? It sort of only happens when it's convenient."

"'Cause like, I think you guys coulda easily stopped me if you used all that hair power."

"Honestly I sorta forgot about it until I got mauled by a mullet."

Tug's not far behind you, stepping onto terra cliffa with grace. Taking in the view, she steps ahead slowly, tracing her hands over the glittering cave walls. "Is this the location? Admittably, now that I know you don't intend to murder me in this deep, isolated forest, I am quite excited to see what lies within!"

Poppy smiles wide (which barely needs mentioning because when isn't she,) completely ignoring that Tug was under the impression you two were going to whack her out here. "Well you better hold onto that excitement, because what you're about to see will-"

"Slap your ass clean off!" You shout, pumping a fist through the air.

Both Poppy and Tug turn to give you a funny look. You slowly lower your arm.

"It's... It's a rock troll expression. Let's just go, yeah?"

"Yeah, let's do that."

"That was an awful expression."

Slap your ass clean off? Who even _says_ that? Poppy making you the psuedo-tour guide of this tour finding tour was a terrible mistake. But, at least the tour touring is almost over.

"Hey, Pops."

"Yeah?" She says, jogging a little to catch up.

"You ever like, say a word so many times it stops sounding like a word? ‘Cause I'm there with tour."

Poppy nervously looks back at the guide following closely behind you, before lowering her voice. "Don't tell anyone, but that sometimes happens with Party. You would not _believe_ how many times I have to say it in a day."

A few more minutes and your motley crew finally stops at the end of the cave, a familiar wrought iron door rising before you. You stand tall in front of the entrance, not at all faltering under Tug Duluth's scrutinizing gaze.

"And we're here! Tug Duluth, welcome to my, uh..." You squint over her shoulder, trying to read Poppy's cue cards. "My crowning achievement as a tour finding aficionado!"

Poppy switches out for a big card that says open the door, so you oblige. Light slowly spills out from the cafe as you strain with all your might to push the slab of metal open. That big metal lug sure did make it look easy, but you can’t be slacking behind when there’s _girls_ watching. 

"Welcome, to the Den of Sir Tanbeth!” You do a double take over your shoulder. _“Tanbeth?"_

Poppy looks at her card, before quickly fixing it.

_"Sir Tandeth!"_

But Tug doesn’t react to your efforts; she just stands there, stiff as a statue. 

"Uh... Tug?"

Frowning, she turns around to look at Poppy, who’s switched her card out for one with the word _Applause!_ written in big glitter letters.

"Ah, excellent, I had forgotten my line." She heartedly claps as the three of you step into the warm light of a pleasant cafe. "Fun Fact: I am not clapping sarcastically, this may well be a winner! I apologize for the many rude judgments I made about your character and aptitude."

"It's no big deal,” you reply, waving her away.

"Oh it is, the assumptions and silent accusations were vast and very, _very_ negative."

Should you say thanks? Maybe _gee, thanks?_ A little sarcastically, but in like a friendly way- oh. She's already moved on.

"Barb, I think we got this fishey hooked,” whispers Poppy, slapping you on the back, “now to just reel her in and measure that Bass."

You cross your arms in indignation. "Okay, seriously, have you _ever_ gone fishing?"

"Well, no, but I can't stop thinking about the hat. It’ll look _so_ good with my whole outfit for Swamp Stompin’ day."

Why do they need a whole holiday for trudging through muck? You guess maybe swamps are a big deal to them? Must be, if they made a whole holiday about it. You don’t make a holiday for just _anything,_ after all. 

_"Ah!"_ Cuts in a familiar booming voice. Before you can think any more on the subject, Tandeth takes notice of your sudden arrival on his doorstep and quickly rushes over. "Pardon my lack of hospitality, were I not up to my horns in customers, I would have met you at the caves mouth!"

Taking a look around, the place _does_ seem a lot livelier than last time. Where as before it was full of critters you assumed just happened to wander in, now a troll or two is among the ranks. Mostly the colored in Country trolls, which is a relief. You think you recognize two of them as Branch's taxi crew.

"Woah, Tandeth, business is booming!” Says Poppy with a grin, trotting next to him. “I'll be surprised if you can even find us a table."

Tandeth laughs boisterously. " _Ohoho_ , as humorous as ever, my lady. I can see why one such as you has no more need for a defective clown. No, right this way."

Head bowed politely, he leads the three of you to a table occupied by a couple of pretty cute bear-like creatures.

"Uh, I think this table is occupied dude. It's cool, we can wait,” you begin, only to watch Tandeth scoop the critters up into his arms and full on toss them like a football out of the cafe. 

"My lady and her guests, standing like common _rabble?”_ He booms. “I will not have it! Please, take a seat, I will be but a moment."

The three of you slowly take the still warm seats.

"Woah, tin can is really devoted, huh?" You look at Poppy, who’s eyes are still on the door.

"Yeah... I feel kind of bad for those little guys though..."

Tug, unbothered, picks up a menu with a grin on her face. "What excellent service! As an avid supporter of local businesses, I would _love_ to add the fearsome forest and this establishment to my offered tours. Tug Duluth’s Fearsome Forage! That name is a work in progress." She extends her hand towards you over the table, which you take and shake. "Thank you Barbara, while your villainy is directly responsible for the decline of the civilization in which I participate, I _must_ thank you for showing me a pretty alright cafe!"

Kind of a backhanded compliment there, but you’ll take it. Poppy beams at the both of you, hands clasped together.

"I told you she just wants to help folks out! She may have goofed a bit here and there, but her heart's in the right place."

"I see that now,” Tug sighs, nodding her head. “I apologize for, understandably, assuming that the complete cultural sterilization you enacted on our entire world suggested you may have been of poor character. I now see that you are simply dumb!"

Frowning, you let go of her hand. Jeez, that back hand had an even backer hand to it, apparently. She’s not wrong, but _damn_. "So, now that you know I'm not history's greatest monster, maybe we can talk about you lending us that sub?"

"Yes, of course! I would happily lend it to you."

Alright! Everything worked out in the end.

"Provided you purchase a ticket. For three thousand dollars."

_"What?!"_ Both you and Poppy shout in unison. 

"B-but, but I- I literally just spent all day trying to help you out!" You stammer incredulously, slapping your hands down onto the hard oak table. Not so much as flinching, Tug sets down her menu and steeples her fingers.

"Yes, and I do appreciate that. But I run a _business_ , Barbara, and you are asking to purchase a premium service! I can't just let you go on your merry way. Also, I don't like you."

"I literally just mentioned how I busted my ass for you!" You shout, causing more than a few trolls and various critters to turn their heads. You can't bring yourself to care- this particular Pop Troll has you on the verge of flipping shit. _"Plus_ , you just said you thought I was stupid, but not evil!"

" _Fun Fact:_ doing one kindness for a person in pursuit of ulterior motives doesn't balance out zombification!"

Cutting through you both, Poppy huffs and stands up in her booth. You look up at her with a pout, but her hard gaze isn't on you, it's on Tug.

"Tug, we did our best; and I didn't want to do this because it's against the spirit of what we're doing, but I'm playing the Queen card." She slides a small folded card across the table. "And yes, I made an actual queen card just so I'd never have to use it."

Brow creased, Tug picks it up, examining it closely. "This is, in fact, a legitimate Queen Card... I'm surprised that this means so much to you."

Poppy looks as sternly ahead as you've ever seen her. "It really does."

Tug gives her an understanding nod, before ripping the damn thing in half.

"Unfortunately, it is a meaningless gesture!"

"What?!" Poppy slaps a hand to her cheek in horror. "But the queen card is the ultimate meaningful gesture! ...Other than a cathartic hug for a friend who almost lost their way, that's a pretty powerful gesture... Oh, and a hug for a friend who's had a bad day. And one for one who's had a good day. Oh, and..."

You watch Tug pull a book out of her hair as Poppy trails off about the assuredly thousands of different kinds of hugs. These guys sure are innovators as far as touching each other goes.

"Page two hundred twenty three, subsection four, paragraph six of Troll Village Law specifically protects small businesses for the application of any and all of the following: Queen Card, King Card, Jerry From the Block Card, etc etc, when not in the best interest of said business."

"What?" Dubious, Poppy takes the book from her and skims it over. "Troll Village doesn't have a law book, dad would just yell really loudly about having fun and being yourself."

"Actually, Branch directed me towards the law section of the old village library, where I discovered this handy book of _very_ specific and technically enforceable ordinances."

With a defeated sigh, Poppy hands the book back. "I always knew his love of boring things would bite me again one day."

You slam your fist on the table, causing the patrons looking your way to jump in their seats. _"How_ is this not in your best interest? We're trying to bring-" _don't say sexy_ "-music back! Don't you think when people are happier they'll want to go look at some dumb rocks again?"

Tug gently puts the book back into her hair, before folding her hands. "I'm beginning to think you aren't truly a tour enthusiast, or else you would be able to appreciate the therapeutic power of looking at cool rocks, which are not dumb."

You pinch your brow with a frustrated growl. You're getting nowhere fast with this. Looking over at Poppy, she returns it with that kind of defeated gaze that says, "Maybe we should go with Plan S." (the S standing for steal her shit.) But before you can really judge whether or not she's throwing down what you're picking up, Tandeth finally makes it back to your table.

"A thousand pardons," He bellows, setting down a tray of assorted tea bags and three cups of steaming hot water. Complimentary, you assume. "I did not mean to keep you waiting for such a _terribly_ long time."

"It's all good big guy," you sigh, leaning back in the booth. At this point even something wimpy like tea was looking good. You'd take anything to smooth over your aching spirits. This forgiveness craps sucks shit.

"Is there anything I can fetch you three? Any confections that peak your interest? Merely let it be known, and I shall fetch it post haste!" Asks Tandeth with a deep bow. You gotta say, his whole vampire-times knight Schtick kinda clashes with the vibe of this place. Dude needs to get a new gimmick. 

Poppy sets down her menu, and with the way she lights up, there might as well be a cartoon lightbulb over her head.

"Yes, I think there is something you can get us!"

Tandeth pulls out a little notebook. "This level of excitement can mean only one thing. Its the scones, is it not? They are truly to die for."

What does he do if he gets dough, or whatever it is scones are made of... What does he do if he gets raw scone material inside the cracks in his armor? Does he... _Feel it?_

"No! … Well actually yes, I can't turn down a good scone. But no, my dear Sir Tandeth, it's tax time."

With a clattering clap of his metal hands, Tandeth puts out some big smile energy. "Ah! Already?! I thought it would be atleast a fortnight afore you would call for my earnings! I'll fetch for it immediately!" He turns on his heels, and quickly clambers off to some back room. You don't even have time to make any comments or start a side conversation with anyone to fill for time before he's back with a hefty looking pouch in hand.

"Here it is, every last cent to my name! Ah, to be left destitute by the greed of royalty..." He wipes an imaginary tear from his eye. "It reminds me of home. Thank you, my lady, for the cruelty of your birthright."

He kneels before your table, offering up the pouch to a frowning Poppy, his head bowed. She reluctantly reaches for it.

"Wow, okay I feel _really_ bad about this now, but we do need the money, so..." She takes the bag from the humble knight, and turns back to the third in your little entourage. "Is this enough to cover the ticket?"

With a discerning gaze Tug takes the pouch in her hands. Weighing it, studying it. Sorting through its contents. Taking a coin and biting right through it with her little rat like teeth. Humming, she looks over at you. "... I honestly do not know! Barbara, is this three thousand dollars?"

"Uh... Yes?"

Nodding happily, Tug closes the bag up and stuffs it into her hair. "Then I will trust your appraisal! Fun Fact: I have no earthly idea how much three thousand Rock Dollars is, and haven't this entire time. You could have given me a rock and I wouldn't have known the difference!"

You think you feel a blood vessel pop in your eye as she fishes a key out of her pocket, tossing it to you.

"If you look to your left, you'll see me hitting the road to Troll Vegas. Thank you for the pile of treasure, Poppy and Chump!"

As she darts out of the café, you can't help but feel like you got owned.

"Wow, she really played you, huh?" Snorts Poppy, sipping her tea.

Not wanting to give her the satisfaction of an answer, you just rest your head in your hand and scowl. A swampkin walks under your arm, laying down on the table. Tandeth waves at him.

"Ah, _hello_ Anthony! I see you still have an affinity for the foolish!"

* * *

You lean against a tree for a short break while Poppy finishes loading up the last of your supplies onto the submarine. It isn't _nearly_ as cool as any number of your tour buses, but you'll guess it'll do. At least it won't get all moldy afterwards. You watch her work for a bit- still a little surprised at how unexpectedly strong she is. For a pop troll.

"Hey, Popstar?" You call out.

Seemingly thankful for the distraction, Poppy sets down a heavy box and wipes her brow. "Yeah, Barb... Uh... otrauma...?"

Kind of a stretch on that one, but you'll let her have it.

"You know how there's like, Troll Vegas, and Troll Claire's?"

"Ugh, don't get me _started_ on Troll Claire's," she moans. "Smidge went on and on about how they pierced her ear, but the wrong one, once. Apparently it didn't send the right message, or something?"

"Yeah…" You raise an eyebrow at that, but decide not to pursue it. "So anyway, does that mean there is a regular Vegas, or Claire's? Why do we have to specify that it's the _trolls_ version?"

"Huh?" Poppy puts her hand on her hip, shooting a funny look your way. "Did you eat those funny mushrooms I told you not to?"

"No?"

"Okay, but if you start thinking you're a swampkin I'm gonna be ticked. I already went through that with Branch."

You dismiss her with a roll of your eyes. "Pfft, are you the fuckin' D.A.R.E. beast or something?"

Poppy strains to try to pick up the box again, but gravity seems to be working against her. Maybe not so strong after all. You suppose you can lend a hand. You slide up beside her and slip a hand underneath the crate, hefting it up to your stomach.

"No," she says as you both ease it through the doorway, "I always abstained from any play that would portray Truth or Dare in a negative light."

"Huh?"

"Are you not talking about those Truth or Dare but _Evil_ shows?" She tilts her head at you. "They were all the rage a few years ago."

"No, I meant like the troll that would dress up in a big growlbeast costume and terrorize children. He'd yell shit like _'Play Rock, but don't smoke them!'_ Then he'd pelt kids with loose gravel. He got me in the eye once, actually! Dude was a menace- I'm pretty sure he's still in Jail," you snort. Frowning in concern, Poppy lets her side of the box fall to the ground.

"Barb, this is completely unrelated, but... Are you _okay?"_ Well of course it's unrelated. Don't know why that would in any way be connected to your funny D.A.R.E. story.

"I'm fine, why?"

"Nothing."

Packing in the last of your supplies, you give dry land one last look before the submarine door closes. You don't actually know what half these boxes are, but apparently they're important underwater stuff? Guess this bathtub doesn't come as fully stocked as one of your Anglers.

"Okay!" Poppy claps her hands together, before shooting a pair of finger guns in your direction. "You ready, Barb... Uh... Barb..."

"Yeah, uh huh?" You lean forward on the control pad with a smirk.

"Barb... asol?"

Well it's less of a stretch than the last one. She's trying, that's what matters. You shoot her a congratulatory thumbs up. "All set, Pop n' Stop."

It's a talent, really.

"Alright! Then let's hit that old ocean trail!"

Settling into the captain's seat, Poppy mans the controls at the front of the fish, and with the flip of a few buttons starts your descent. 

_"WAIT!"_

Before you can settle in, she suddenly stops the sub, which lurches enough to make your stomach flip.

"What?!" You choke, grabbing the part of your shirt that laid above your frantically beating heart.

With a proud little smile she reaches into her hair and pulls out a white captain's hat, which she somehow miraculously manages to fit her mane inside of. "Okay, _now_ we're ready to hit that trail."

You melt in your seat and give an exasperated groan.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you like this fic, comments & kudos are appreciated!! thank you (:


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